When Phangirls Attack: Erik's Worst Nightmare
by Aggravate.the.Axe
Summary: When two teenage girls take a trip to The Phantom's opera house, will they come out alive? Will he? Or will they annoy him to death? A story about my friend and I. My own brand of phanfiction, a little of the book, movie, and musical. E/C, E/OC s , R/C
1. Madame's dirty little secret!

**A/N: Hey! This is my first Phantom RP, so don't flame too hard! I'll try to do as best as I can. This is just supposed to be a very funny attack of fan girls! It stars me (Izzi), and my friend Lizzy! Ready? Yey! So…here we go…**

**Oh yeah! And I don't own The Phantom of the Opera, unfortunately.**

Izzi's POV

"_THINK OF ME! THINK OF ME FONDLY!" _ My best friend, Lizzy, and I sang 'Think of Me' rather horribly, each of us listening to an earbud of my IPod. The carriage we were in swayed rather jerkily, throwing us all around the cart.

"Would both of you _shut up_?!" the driver begged, staring at us oddly, seeing as how we were listening to my IPod in the 1800s. This certainly wasn't allowed, right? Eh, too bad.

"No! _If you ever find a moooomeeent…spare a thought for meeee!_" We laughed, and I turned off my IPod. "We should stop torturing this poor man."

"Agreed," said Lizzy, laughing. I tossed her a compact so we could check our makeup. "You think they're gonna let us in?"

"You any good at ballet?" I asked hopefully.

Lizzy stared at me, aghast. "Are you joking? I can barely run!"

I nodded. "We could be cleaning girls? I'm sure they need more of those."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, and snapped the compact shut. "When are we meeting Erik?"

I raised my hand. "All in good time, my child." The driver continued to stare. I bounced up and down in my seat. "Can't you go any faster?!"

"I _can_, but it'll cost you extra," he said, glaring ahead of him. I would pay a little more to meet Christine and the gang!

"Fine!" I tossed more francs at him. "Just hurry it up!"

We arrived at the big opera building. I had no freaking idea what the hell to call it…whatever. We thanked the driver half-heartedly and walked up to the front doors. I knocked. A woman in a black dress opened it. Madame Giry!

"Who are you?" she asked fiercely. Not the welcome I'd been expecting, but whatever.

"My name is Iz—_Isabella_, and this is my friend Elizabeth," I said. "We were hoping for a job."

Fortunately, I had thought of changing our cloths to something less modern before we came—and believe me, you _don't_ want to know how we got there. Let's just say it involved lots and lots of safety pins.

Madame looked around a bit suspiciously. "Why are you really here?"

I sighed. Was she truly this smart? "We came for jobs. Honest, Madame. Please, we've been cast out on the streets like dogs and have no idea how we're supposed to live!" I begged.

Madame's eyes softened a little. "Well…I think I might be able to find you an opening. But why here?"

"The only place offering jobs is the…" I swallowed a bit of vomit. "The bordello." Sadly, that was true.

Madame frowned. "Come in, I think we have a few openings as cleaning girls."

I made the 'rock on' sign at Lizzy, sticking out my tongue. A lady walking by the opera house saw me and blinked a few times. I giggled and waved, twinkling my fingers.

Madame led us through the opera house, up the stairs. She reminded us rather frequently to beg and plead as best we could to the managers. I knew that she felt really bad for us, I could just tell. We promised that we would beg. And beg well, dammit.

She knocked lightly on a door I could only assume was to the managers' office. A short man with graying hair opened the door a crack. "What _is_ it, Madame?" He glanced down at Lizzy and I briefly.

"I would like to have a word with you," she said. "These little girls need a job, Monsieur Firmin."

Ah, so this was the famous Firmin. Yes, yes, very good. "Why? They look well enough to me."

"They shall starve without any money, Monsieur. I am not about to send them to the _whore house_," she said, gesturing to us.

Firmin glanced at us again, and looked back up at Madame Giry. He did a double take, looking at us, Lizzy in particular. "You two look odd…what country are you from?"

"Jolly old England!" Lizzy piped up in our fake accents. I stifled a laugh.

"Quite…" Firmin said, raising an eyebrow. "You may be cleaning girls until you can find someone to support you, got it? You may start today…"

Both he and Madame Giry eyed me. "What?" I asked.

"Er…Isabella, you wouldn't happen to know anything about our Operas, would you?" Madame asked me.

"I've…heard about this Christine Daae. Is it true he father was that famous violinist?" I asked. Lizzy stared at me, knowing a simple cleaning girl should give simple answers.

Madame nodded. "She was one of my finest ballerinas. Would you like to meet my girls?" I blinked. This was going way better than I had planned. We were supposed to be cleaning girls! Lizzy sensed my speechlessness and spoke up.

"Yes, that'd be lovely. Thank you." She was better at this grace thing than I.

Madame left Firmin alone and led us down to the stage. Back stage was packed as if it was opening night. It must've been a rehearsal. I heard a voice by the stage singing something a little shakily, as if the person was scared…or nervous.

Madame rounded up her ballerinas and introduced us. Meg came bounding up in her little outfit. I thought about covering my eyes, but no one else was, so I didn't. Madame introduced us, and Meg smiled down at us, a trace of pity in her eyes.

"How is Christine doing, Meg?" Madame asked frantically, already getting into the back stage spirit.

Meg bit her lip. "She _so_ nervous, Madame. And…_he_…is not making it any easier for her." I smiled slightly, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Madame spotted me out of the corner of her eye.

"What's that, Isabella?" she asked.

"Nothing at all, Madame. I was just thinking about Christine's nervousness. It is very…unusual for a Prima Donna to be frightened, is it not? May I ask who _he_ is, exactly?" I asked.

Lizzy pinched my back, and I bit my lip to stop from kicking her back. Madame looked at me, mildly surprised. "It is none of your business, cleaning girl."

I chuckled, knowing I couldn't have pulled _that_ off, even with Madame Giry. _Especially_ Madame Giry. I heard a quiet lecture near the stage, and decided to have a look. Pulling Lizzy after me, I watched as Andre talked with Christine, her nodding slightly.

Suddenly, something fell onto my head like a leaf. I picked it off and discovered a letter. It was sealed with red wax in the shape of a small skull. I was quite happy that the skull didn't look like it had in the movie. Yeash.

I immediately looked up, and thought I saw a little swirl of a cape. I grinned and turned to Lizzy. "I gots a letter!"

My letter (which I would've kept in a heartbeat) was snatched away by a slightly flustered Madame Giry. She scowled at me and then bustled off toward Andre, bun bouncing.

Lizzy dragged me closer to the action, wanting to hear apparently. Christine was staring at the letter pale-faced while Andre read it quickly. He finally groaned in disgust. "Twenty thousand francs! Someone get Firmin!"

Firmin was there in a flash, running down the isle of the gigantic room. "First Carlotta, now this! Damn, damn, damn!" he was muttering. Lizzy and I stifled our laughs, like the silly thirteen-year-olds we were.

"You heard," Andre stated, holding out the letter. Madame Giry and Meg escorted Christine out and (presumably) to her dressing room. We followed like lost puppies, and Madame didn't seem to notice.

We waited outside her dressing room, hearing gagging sounds and sobs coming from it. "So…what do you think so far?" I asked Lizzy.

"Well, I know you're gonna get us kicked out. We're gonna have to work at Sluts 'R' us!" she replied, scowling.

"Sorry. Maybe you should do most of the public speaking. I have such a hard time…you know…not being a smart-ass." I rolled my eyes, pressing my ear to the door.

"Obviously," Lizzy grumbled. She pressed her ear to the door as well, and started smiling.

"What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. I could barely hear anything accept for a few words.

"They're talking about Erik! Madame just said, 'He is sometimes impatient, but he will be pleased with you in the end.' Ooh! This is exciting!" she mumbled.

I nodded. I was gonna meet The Phantom! I felt like making up a chant. 'I am gonna meet EERIK! I am gonna meet EERIK! I am gonna meet EERIK!'. Yeah, that's how it'd go. I was so inventive!

Lizzy and I stood there laughing quietly. We were mumbling about Erik, and suddenly the door burst open. It was Madame, and she looked furious. She's obviously heard us. Shoving us toward the stage, Madame ordered us to clean it and handed us mops and buckets harshly, spilling water on me. I almost decked her.

We mopped the stage like there was no tomorrow. She as how no one was around, we started singing verses of the musical to each other. I tried for the finale on Think of Me, and did decent, but not very good. We burst out laughing when I tried for the high notes on some of the songs, my voice croaking like a toad on E5.

There was a cold wind and a slight growl. Me and Lizzy stopped mopping abruptly and stared at each other. He was there, and he was watching us.

**We're actually not from England, haha. K, review!**


	2. Erik and the confuzzling dilemma

**A/N: Chapter two! Yase! Enjoy!**

_**Don't own it blah, blah, blah…**_

Erik's POV:

I was watching Christine throw up on her carpet, shaking my head. How could she be so shaken up, hadn't I taught her better? No. I wasn't her father. I didn't teach her anything having to do with personality. Or did I…

Anywho, I was watching her wretch when I heard someone singing. And not very well, either. They didn't have that much potential, though, that I could tell. There was suddenly another voice, a completely different voice. Though not better by much, this voice was much more up to the task. I dashed down my various hallways and into box 5.

Looking down at the stage, I saw two teenage girls. One had long, blond, almost red hair, with bluish-green eyes and faint freckles. Her face was delicate and her eyes shined with mischief. The other had shiny brown hair, tied up in a neat pony tail, with brown eyes. Her face was more abrupt; big lips, thick eyebrows. Neither where very pretty, but I watched them anyway.

I could tell that the blond was not at all interested in sharing her vocal talents. In fact, while hitting E5 she croaked. Literally. On purpose. I growled a little when I saw that she was ruining her voice without a second thought. They both paused and I realized they'd heard me.

They stared at each other for a second, and then the blond one shouted, "ERIK!"

I jumped back, alarmed. How the hell did this cleaning girl know my name? The brown-haired one shushed her, glancing around. "Shush, Izzi!"

Izzi's blue eyes searched the opera house, eventually going up to box 5. "_I will watch the performance from my normal seat in box 5, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!"_ she called up, ending it with a nod, and going back to mopping.

What the hell? That sounded like something I would leave in a letter! That's not cool! Who is she, a psychic? Jesus, I needed a drink…or two. And maybe a cigarette. I shook my head and continued watching them. I started to get used to their strange appearances as time went on, and I sighed, quite bored. But they kept singing, so I stayed, mostly picking out points where the blond was faking bad singing.

Seriously, who fakes bad singing? Well, people who don't want to be noticed. Maybe Prima Donna was not the position that these girls was looking for. But cleaning girl? Who wants to be that? _People who don't want to be noticed sneaking into rooms_, I thought. I rolled my eyes, and was about to get up, but heard footsteps outside of the box.

"…could they know about The Phantom? They just came here from England. London, by their accents. How could they know, how could they know?!" It was Madame Giry's voice. How _could_ they know? I mean, really, it's not like I'm that popular with the ladies…

The footsteps went away, but I didn't leave. I sat back down and thought of why in the hell they would want to get into rooms. To steal things, obviously, but why? They were getting paid enough to feed themselves and would probably dorm with Meg or someone.

The blond, Izzi, walked off the stage, followed by her friend, and I debated following them. I shook my head and went back to Christine's mirror, where Christine was talking to Madame.

"Oh, Madame, I know not what to do…The Angel is expecting so much from me, I'm sorry about the rug…" I smiled. She's stressed out, and all she can think about is the rug.

Madame shook her head, and opened the door, leading Christine out, and letting the cleaning girls in. I slapped my forehead. It was the two girls from the stage.

"Is this it?" the girl who wasn't Izzi asked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. This place is tight, dawg," she said, nodding as she looked around. Dawg? What was a dawg? And how could the room be tight? Did she have claustrophobia? I shook my head. She made no sense.

"Don't talk like that, Izzi, people here will burn you or something," the other girl said.

"Do people do that?" It was then that I noticed that they weren't speaking in English accents. They actually sounded American. Humph.

"I assume…? It _is_ the 1800s, anyway, isn't it?"

"Lizzy, I'll be fine. I've got a very good lawyer," Izzi waved her hand dismissively. They stepped up to the mirror, and they both pressed their faces to it. I backed up, slightly creeped out. Izzi attempted to pry it open, but was clawing at the hinges. I stifled a laugh, and they looked at each other.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes! He was stifling a laugh! He was laughing at us!" They both sighed, a dreamy look in their eyes. I made a face and backed up more. What was _wrong_ with these girls, why did they like me? _How did they even know who the hell I am?!_

I shook my head and walked away, but didn't turn my back to them, just in case. This was so weird! Not a lot of things freak me out, but this was freaking me out…majorly!

"Arughh!" Izzi groaned, stepping away from the mirror and going to clean up the puke. "We'll come back later and try it again."

OH! So they were gonna come back and claw at my hinges some more? Great, let them. And let their fingers bleed afterward, dammit! I decided to take myself up on those few drinks, and walked back to my crib. Oh, uh…I mean my _lair_!

I decided to skip my boat and just sloshed through the waterways, kicking the little gondola on my way. When I came out on the other end, I was soaking wet. All part of my master plan (muahahahaha). If in fact they _did_ come back, and figured out where the hinges were and where they were not, they would think I wasn't there and leave. Hopefully.

Smacking some candles down, I got up to my organ and grumbled. I was so damn tired. I took up a bottle of I don't know what—it was alcohol, and that's all I cared about. I drank it, and then thought, _Ha-HA! _Now I wasn't drunk, but I was less angry and edgy. Ah, the miracles of booze.

I looked at my little stage and sighed. There was a little figurine of Christine on it in the red, gold and blue dress that I'd just copied from the costume designer's office. Why did I even bother making exact copies of these things?

That was the last thing I thought before I completely passed out, drooling on the keys and everything.

I woke up with a start and looked at my clock. "Damn!" I hollered. I was missing Christine's performance! I jumped up, straightened out my outfit, put on my cape and rushed down the gate, wishing that I _had_ taken the boat. I trudged through the water and grumbled when I came out with my pant legs soaking wet. I slipped down a trapdoor and into box 5.

I sighed, happy that I hadn't missed her piece. I'd worked hard on her, all leading up to this point. She walked on stage in the dress with gold embellishments, and started singing in her sweet yet odd voice.

_And though it's clear, though it was always clear,_

_That this was never meant to be,_

_If happen to remember, stop and think of me!_

I nodded, knowing that that part she'd had trouble with. She was doing great so far, I was very impressed. I chuckled, watching her glance around nervously. Her voice wasn't affected at all, but you could see she was pushing herself not to cry.

_Think of me, _

_Think of me waking, silent and resigned!_

_Imagine me, _

_Trying too hard to put you from my mind!_

_Think of me; please say you'll think of me,_

_Whatever else you choose to do…_

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you!_

I sighed and clapped quietly. She was so—something in the crowd caught my attention. It was the first person to stand up, a man with neat hair and a fancy tux to boot. His eyes were so alive with love that all I could do was stare, horrified.

Would was this guy, and why did he love Christine?! Well, I don't mean it like that, would _wouldn't_ love Christine?...But still! Really!

_Flowers fade,_

_The fruits of summer fade,_

_They have their seasons, so do we…_

_But please promise me that sometimes_

_You…will…think…_

I forgot the guy and prayed for her to nail this bit.

_Of me!_

I cheered and did a little dance, with air guitar and everything. I stopped when I realized what I was doing and swished my cape, going through a trap door, and back into my various hallways. Now to prevent those girls from coming...

**O_O Yeah...a few mistakes in there, but nothing major, right? I kind of based his lair more on the movie, but to me the movie lair is too wet and small. So think more musical/movie lair.**


	3. All dreams shoved into an armoire!

**A/N: Hey! I just came back from my own patented singing lessons—that is singing the same song until the throat hurts. I'm getting pretty good at Think of Me! Let's see if my phanfic me does! Chapta fowa!**

**And don't own all this crap. Well, I do own myself and Lizzy XD! What's up with these disclaimers? If I made up these characters, why would I be posting on ? Published authors probably have better things to do.**

Lizzy POV:

I gaped at Christine while she sang 'Think of Me'. How could anyone sing like that? Impossible! Izzi was sitting beside me backstage, taking notes furiously. Her paper said things like, 'uses unnecessary hand motions, usually touching her middle finger to her thumb and singing to the ceiling' or, 'DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE FIVE-HUNDRED THOUSAND OCTIVES IN THE MIDDLE OF A LOW VERSE!'

I didn't know what the hell a 'low verse' was, but I wasn't about to ask. I assumed it was a verse that's low, but what do I know. Anywho, I nearly burst out laughing when I saw Raoul. He wasn't wearing blond mullet like in the Sarah Brightman video, but he looked like a fop anyhow.

I tapped my foot and waited for Christine to get on with it. "Well," Izzi said, looking up from her notes of little sense. "I guess we were wrong. It _was_ opening night!"

"How could we not notice that?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Hey! We can go to TPOTO's pad before Christine gets there!" Izzi said, jumping up. I'm not as big of a phan as Izzi, but I agreed to come because it sounded like fun. She promised it'd be fun…she also promised I would see Raoul's ridiculous hairdo, but that didn't happen.

Izzi and I crept down the hallway, to Christine's dressing room. It was locked. Izzi growled in disbelief (as if no one in the 1800s was supposed to lock their doors) and started to pick the lock. It was surprisingly easy to pick, an early model of those safety locks that don't work. I mean, all you do is stick a pin in the hole and it unlocks! Really, now!

Izzi and I walked into the dark room silently, and she shut the door behind us. She looked around. "Nice place."

"You already said that—last time we were here…by the way, when is Christine supposed to be back?"

We whipped around as we heard someone unlocking the door and frantically looked around the room for something to hide in. We hid in a tall armoire filled with Carlotta's clothes.

Both Izzi and I barely fit together—it was a small armoire! But it was a good hiding spot; why would Christine be opening _Carlotta's_ armoire?

Anyway, there was a soft conversation with a man and two women—the voices I recognized as Firmin, Christine, and Madame Giry.

"Christine, that was lovely, we are all very impressed," Firmin said proudly, but in a whisper. I looked at Izzi, wondering why they were whispering.

"Thank you, Monsieur," Christine replied just as quietly. Madame said nothing further, and eventually all three of them left.

Izzi and I stumbled out of the armoire and looked around. Suddenly all of the candles were blown out, and a cold breeze wafted through the room. Random dark music started playing.

"_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!_" a voice sang softly. How could he mistake Firmin for Raoul? Hm.

Izzi rolled her eyes. "_Save your breath, you crazy Phantom. This isn't Christine, you yutz! I really wish you'd learn your lesson…so how's your life been?_" she sang, still in the tune of the song, which had turned to light and fluttery.

The music died with a _wuurrrr…_ like a record. The mirror was flung open, and there stood a very angry Phantom.

"Who the hell are you?!" he demanded, stomping toward us with a rope that I deducted must be his Punjab lasso.

"Well, my name is—" Izzi started.

"No! I mean who _are_ you?! How do you know who I am, and how the hell did you know about the mirror?!" He held up the rope threateningly.

"I dunno, but I do know who _you_ are, Erik. You are The Phantom of the Opera, and you're in love with Christine Daae, but there's this guy name Raoul who pissing you off because he's trying to steal your babe," Izzi said, waving away the lasso.

He looked at us, his expression now showing confusion. "How do you know all of that?"

Izzi grimaced. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, for you see that would be breaking the Fourth Wall, and we don't want to do that!"

Erik glared at us menacingly. "I don't particularly _care_ what a 'Fourth Wall' is, but all I know is that you're going to die!" He moved toward us with the lasso.

"OH, PLEASE!" I shouted my hands on my hips. "You can't kill us! We know all your moves, and we know how to prevent them!"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. Izzi and I both put a hand at the level of our eyes. He jumped back. "What are you, witches?!" It was surprising how the position of our hands only could foil his plot of killing us.

"No, just teenage phangirls," Izzi said, nodding knowingly.

"What the hell is a '_phangirl_'?" Erik asked, putting down the rope. Before either of us could answer, there was the sound of a door being unlocked. Erik scowled and shoved us through the mirror, then getting in himself, and closing it.

Raoul de Chagney walked in with flowers, saw there was no one here, and shrugged, leaving.

Erik turned to us. "So, who is that?" he asked.

"Raoul de Chagney, the new patron. Why?" Izzi and I exchanged a glance. I wondered why she wasn't freaking out. I mean, _The _Phantom of the Opera was standing right in front of us, talking to us and not killing us!

"Because he's laying moves on Christine," Erik replied. Izzi made a face and peered down the dark hall.

"So…we going to your crib?" Izzi asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't want you in my house."

"Oh, please!" Izzi said rudely.

He scowled, looking as if he wanted to deck her. "_No one_ is allowed in my lair!"

"But we know things about what's going to happen between you and Christine that you don't Erik. And if you want knowledge of these things, you had better be nice to us," Izzi said, shaking a finger at him.

He looked at the ground, considering that for a moment. "No," he said. "I can do things myself!"

Izzi sighed. "Alright, then." And she started walking through the hallways herself, motioning me to follow.

"Hey! Hey, you come back!" Erik demanded, following us. "You'll be killed by my traps anyway!" he said as Izzi looked up to find a saw blade in the ceiling, ready to drop down and slice her head open. She shrugged and stepped around it.

Erik stared at us in disbelief, and then dragged us backward. "I forbid it! No entering my lair!"

Izzi shrugged. "I guess you could either sit here and argue with us or—" Erik threw us both out of the mirror entrance.

"Ow!" I said, rubbing my arm. Izzi rolled her eyes and dashed into the armoire again as the door was opened. I gasped and climbed in too, just before Christine came in.

She was singing softly to herself, looking around her room. Izzi and I watched her sit at her vanity through the keyhole in the armoire. She combed her hair a little and sighed. Izzi and I exchanged a glace.

Suddenly Raoul burst through the door, panting and tripping over his own feet. "Ah! Little Lottie was—Oof!" He then fell over, ruining his 'Little Lottie' spiel. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room except Raoul.

"Are you okay?" Christine asked, not getting up. Raoul scrambled up with a red face.

"Yes…just a little too hasty, I suppose," he said, giving her the flowers he was carrying. "Long time no see."

Christine smiled. "I've missed you," she said, getting up and hugging him. I rolled my eyes. What a fop! He made her hug him…well, technically he didn't _make_ her, but…you know…

"I missed you too. What say we go out on the town? How about I don't wait for your answer and get my carriage?" Wow. Raoul was acting really OOC…

"Oh, I can't. I have to stay here," Christine said, glancing at the red rose on her vanity.

"Why? I'm gonna go get the carriage," Raoul started to walk away.

"No, Raoul, you don't understand! The Angel of music is very…ya know, bossy," she said, grabbing his coat.

"Angel of—Oh! Angel of Music, right, right," he nodded and smiled. "I remember when we used to play that game!"

"No, it's not a game anymore, Raoul. He's real," Christine looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Well, you'll just have to tell him to get lost, then!" Raoul said jokingly, obviously unconvinced of Erik.

"No, Raoul—" He walked away, cutting her off. She whimpered a tiny bit as he closed the door.

"I'm not going anywhere," she muttered, and went behind a curtain to change. While she was gone, Izzi and I spoke in whispers.

"_Raoul was—"_

_"I know," _ Izzi replied, trying not to step on my foot.

"_He lacks any tact whatsoever!_" I said, thinking of how he looked at Christine as if she was nutso.

"_Are you kidding? He hardly has any basic zest, let alone tact_," she said, snorting.

"_He lacks basic zest?_" I asked flatly.

"_Exactly!_" Christine came out again, dressed in her night clothes. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief to find that they weren't the movie night clothes, which we weren't too fond of. I mean, who wears leather and buckles to bed? Not normal people!

Suddenly, the lights went out, and the cold breeze filled the room again. And we knew what was coming.

"_Insolent boy, _

_This slave of fashion, _

_Basking in your glory!_

_Ignorant fool,_

_This brave, young suitor,_

_Sharing in my triumph!"_

The color drained from Christine's face, and she looked around. Her expression read either, 'WHAT THE HELL?!' or, 'M-m-mommy!'

Izzi and I snickered, and she started to sing:

"_Angel, I hear you…_

_Speak, I listen!_

_Stay by my side,_

_Guide me…_

_Angel, my soul was weak,_

_Forgive me!_

_Enter, at last,_

_Master…"_

I heard Izzi groan a little and saw her roll her eyes in the dim, blue light coming from the keyhole. They sang their bit, and went we could hear her approach the mirror. We silently slid out of the armoire and followed her. Erik almost saw us a few times, but we followed them through the mirror successfully. _Then they started singing_.

**Yeah, not my best chapter and it kind of didn't make much sense in parts. Also, Raoul tripped over himself. Hm, maybe he's losing his charm. Ah, who cares? I dunno how much I like the confrontation with Erik, because I don't react at all. If I found out he was real, I'd be freaking out. XD And tell me if you think we met him too soon. I mean, it IS our first day there...**

**Reviews feed my soul! Please feed my soul! *begs***


	4. Christine and the Andrew Sisters

**A/N: Beneath the opera house, I know he's there! He's with me on the stage, he's everywhere! And when my song begins, I always find The Phantom of the Opera in here, inside my mind!**

**Weird original lyrics that I don't own, along with the whole shebang.**

**He was a trumpet man from out Chicago way, he had a boogie style that no one else could play, he was the top man at his craft…*continues to sing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy***

Izzi's POV:

Reality was kicking in: I was in Paris stalking a guy with serious mental issues. Kidding. Well, that was true, but the only reality that was kicking in for me was that The Phantom was real and that he was singing almost right next to me!

Lizzy and I tried to keep up with them, but they were going too fast and they were being a little loud. I was being extra careful to dodge any traps; I didn't want to have it end up with me dying. We reached the canals just as Erik was rowing Christine away.

"Shiz!" I whispered, wondering whether I should go through the water or not. I stepped in carefully and grabbed onto the tip of the gondola, dragging Lizzy behind me. We just sat there, being dragged by it. Lizzy looked pretty grossed out by the time Christine hit her last note and Erik stopped the boat.

She motioned to me that she wanted out. _Now._ I motioned back that we had to wait until Christine passed out to get out of the water. She shook her head, starting to get out. I kicked her under the water, and she backed up a little. The Phantom was still singing his bit. I pursed my lips and watched him, getting a little impatient. Why was he taking so damn long?

Finally, after what seemed like fifty years (in reality only four and a half minutes), he pulled back a curtain, revealing the wax figure of Christine in a wedding dress. I gasped a little, it was really pretty. She started to say something, but collapsed into Erik's arms, and Lizzy rolled her eyes. I sighed and got out of the water, soaking from head to toe.

Erik picked Christine up and turned around, seeing me only about ten feet away from him. His golden eyes widened, as if he had been dropped in some kind of horror movie. I _did_ kind of look like a ghost from The Overlook with my mascara dripping down my cheeks and my black dress wet and ripped from the various traps he'd set in the hallways.

He growled under his breath. "What do you two _want_?!" he looked as if he were about to drop Christine and kill us with an ice cold glare and nasty insults. It actually looked sort of funny, but at the same time, terrifying.

"You don't sound too surprised," I said, wringing out my dress. I gave up and decided to just take it off, revealing my jeans and tank top.

Erik looked me up and down, obviously confused with this clothing. To him it probably looked like I was in my undies. "Of course I'm not—you two are crazy! Of course you would risk your lives just to get soaked and stabbed! You're both like me, except in crazy underwear and makeup!" he shouted, and then walked away with Christine, mumbling. He came back after awhile without her, and sat himself in a chair.

"What, you don't wear makeup sometimes?" I asked, squeezing my hair to get the water out.

"How sexist."

"Derogatory."

"Yes," Lizzy ended, nodding.

Erik stared at us blankly. "I need morphine."

"Druggie!"

"Addict!"

"Junkie!"

"Morphine-taker!" I yelled. He jumped up, hissing at us to shut up.

"You'll wake Christine!" he whispered frantically.

"Good for us…" I said, motioning for him to continue, as if I didn't understand.

"I don't want her to wake up and see random teenagers here—she might think I'm a pedophile," he said, scowling.

"Go get your needle," I ordered, pointing demandingly with a blank expression.

"You mean to say _needles_," he corrected.

"Yes, fine then, _need-dills_!" I said, rolling my eyes. Surprisingly, he did what I said. Maybe he was planning on drugging me?

I grabbed them and tossed them into the lake, dusting off my hands afterward. He stared at the spot where I had thrown them with an expression of mixed shock and horror. Then his eyes flashed and there he was, strangling me.

"He—augh! Ma—mbo!" I choked, pushing him away. Before he could start strangling me again, I screamed at the top of my lungs. He lunged at me and tried to get at my neck again, but Lizzy kicked him somewhere that I'm not going to mention.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something but collapsed, gasping. There was a loud yawn from somewhere in the place and Christine's voice called out, "Angel?"

Erik tried to get up, struggling. Apparently Lizzy had kicked him quite hard. I wondered if I should be flattered or horrified. "Chris…tine…!" Erik choked out, standing up and glaring daggers at us.

Christine walked out, bumping into the figure of her. "Oh…excuse me, Madame," she said drowsily, walking toward us. She blinked a few times, coming to her senses. "Oh, dear! What happened, who are you people?!"

"I'm Izzi, and this is Lizzy," I said, nodding.

Christine looked at us, puzzled. She glanced down at my clothes a few times. "Why are you down here? I figured The Angel was the only one who knew how to get here…"

"We have our ways," I said, smiling politely. She looked at Erik's expression.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, rushing to his side.

He gave us an evil smirk. "Yes, everything is fine. Now go to bed, Christine."

"No, I want to meet them!" she demanded. He just sighed, and she stepped forward. "I'm—"

"Christine Daae—we know," Lizzy interrupted flatly.

Christine looked at her for a moment, and stayed silent. Erik glared at us, and Lizzy blinked, looking around a little. I decided to break the silence:

"…_He…was a__ famous trumpet man from out Chicago way,  
He had a boogie style that no one else could play  
He was the top man at his craft,  
But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft  
He's in the army now, blowing reveille  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!_"

I sang it just like one of the Andrew sisters. Christine looked at me quietly and then smiled, going along with it.

"_They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam:  
It really brought him down because he could not jam!  
The captain seemed to understand,  
Because the next day the cap' went out and drafted a band!  
And now the company jumps when he plays reveille  
He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!"_

We ended it together. "_He was some boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!"_

Both Lizzy and Erik stared at us. There was a long silence that Erik finally broke. "WHAT THE HELL?! At least when _I_ break into song, my lyrics have to do with what's going on!"

I chuckled. "Heh-heh…it's just that that song was stuck in my head." I couldn't help but wonder how Christine knew it. Ah well.

Erik glared and motioned for Christine to go meander around the lair for a bit. She obliged, walking to his organ and looking over a few scores. He looked back at us fiercely. "_Can't you just leave me in peace?!_" he demanded in a hiss.

"Can we? Yes. Will we? Don't count on it," Lizzy said.

Erik's mouth twitched, as if he was fighting off a remark he might regret, with Christine right there. "Fine. Stay here and rot."

I shrugged. He sighed, and looked menacingly at me. "If you don't get out of here, I will decapitate you and use your spine as a xylophone." His voice was calm with an edge of madness. This guy was nutso.

I shrugged again. "I've heard worse."

"I'm _so_ sure that that's true, that I'm just gonna walk away now." And that he did, sitting next to Christine. I exchanged a glance with Lizzy, knowing we were thinking the exact same thing.

Christine looked at Erik, astounded, then at us, and then back at Erik. She said something, and then nodded as he replied. She sung a few bars of one of the songs in the score, looking back at us.

Erik looked at us too. His gaze zeroed in on me, and his eyes seemed to say: I know your dirty little secret, Isabella. You can sing.

I gulped, truly scared. No one can know I can sing. I just can't take that kind of recognition. I don't know why, because I'm usually a total drama queen.

Christine finished and smiled at The Phantom. They carried on a little conversation and he walked her back to her room. I decided to have a peek at her room, and saw what I'd been expecting: a weird shaped bed, a vanity, candles, and lots of pillows! All so gold it was almost blinding.

He dropped a curtain in front of her door, and turned around, his face about six inches from mine. I backed up immediately, and he looked relieved. He sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes.

I almost felt like telling him how Christine was going to betray him, but shook the idea out of my head. Erik suddenly glared at me. "You should probably go now," he said. His face was in a grimace, but I could see the plea in his eyes. He just wanted to be left alone with Christine.

I rolled my eyes, nodding. "I'm going, I'm going…" I said, waving my hand and walking over to Lizzy. We walked out the door, Erik behind us. I hopped into the boat, pulled Lizzy in, and waited expectantly.

"What?" Erik asked, shrugging, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

"Aren't you gonna _escort_ us?" Lizzy asked, shaking her head at him. _Isn't that obvious?_ Her expression read.

He glanced around. "Look, you're _way_ beyond lucky that I haven't killed you yet—don't push your luck."

A looked up at him, trying to make my expression say, _Okay, yes, fine. I can sing, but just get us out of here! If you want us gone, get rid of us!_

He heaved a long, shuttering sigh and stepped into the boat. "Damn little…" he trailed off.

"I heard that," I muttered. He started rowing and it was as if I was in a dream. The Phantom of the Opera was rowing me down one of his canals! Of course, I never imagined Lizzy by my side, but meh. I'll take what I can gets.

I half expected him to sing, but he never did, so I provided the entertainment.

"_Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,_

_Jingle all the way!_

_Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse, open sleigh—_

_HEY!"_

"For the love of all that is beautiful and good, sing something _decent_!" Erik shouted. I shut up, and heard Lizzy stifling a laugh. Well, not really _stifling_…more like stuffing her whole fist in her mouth.

We reached the other end and Erik shooed us out. "Watch out for traps…or don't…but I don't want to have to clean you up in the morning!" he called back, rowing away.

"How thoughtful," Lizzy muttered, and we started to climb the stairs back to the mirror.

**There we are! Chapter five coming really soon.**


	5. Face off!

**A/N: What is it, day three? And I already have five chapters! *gasps* I'm so amazing. Or maybe I just have too much time on my hands…at any cost, here's chapter five—dun dun dun!**

**I don't own any of this. Jesus, stop hounding me! I don't own with freaking thing! *cries in corner***

Erik's POV:

I rowed back to my lair quickly, not wanting to miss Christine if she woke up. I thought of Izzi's look before I got into the boat, and the look she had while Christine was singing. She knew I knew that she can sing at least _decently_ and was scared.

I opened the gate, rowed down the last canal and stopped the boat. I sat down in it and thought for a minute. There were two teens stalking me _and_ they know absolutely everything about me…well, maybe not _everything._ Why do I wear a mask? What's under it? I laughed darkly and stood up, walking up the stairs and into my lair.

I went and checked on Christine, who was still sleeping. I smiled and sighed, then made my way over to my organ. I sat down and started pouring over a few scores, fixing notes here and there.

Izzi and Lizzy. Where did those names come from? For some reason I could not stop thinking about those annoying girls. I growled and stood up, not able to stop my curiosity.

Going through the gate again, I skipped the boat, giving up and just going through a trap door, ending up in a hall. The hallway ended at a door that came out to the main lobby, which was filled with people.

I rolled my eyes, creeping out of the door stealthily. The people in the lobby were Meg, Madame Giry, Andre, and a random mime. I stared a bit at the mime, not noticing that Meg had turned her head and was gaping at me. She tugged on her mother's arm, and I finally looked at her and then flitted away, swearing the whole way. Andre had almost seen me.

I slipped under the stairs and waited until they were gone, then going directly to the stage. I peered around and decided to go back stage, knowing there must be something to clean back there after opening night.

"Izzi! Don't mix plastic with paper!" I heard a voice lecture. I frowned when I heard them start to quarrel. I grabbed a rope, swinging right in front of them. They looked up, a bit startled.

Izzi smirked. "So, you came crawling back."

"No, I did _not_. I was just wondering about something," I said, swishing my cape back.

"What do you want to know, Druggie?" Izzi asked, picking up some underwear. "Eugh."

"Where did your names come from? I mean, they don't even make any sense. What are your _real_ names?" I demanded.

"Hey! Maybe we should call him The Druggie of the Opera!" Lizzy said, picking up more laundry.

Izzi nodded, smiling. "Yes! Great!"

I rolled my eyes. "I _asked_ you a _question_."

They rolled their eyes in turn. "Izzi's real name is Isabella, and mine is Elizabeth. There, now you know. Yeash."

I nodded. "Now, let me ask _you_ a question," Lizzy persisted. I didn't answer, but she went on anyway. "How _old_ are you?!"

I thought for a moment…"I guess in my mid-thirties," I said, shrugging.

Izzi nodded a few times and then said, "How old is Christine?"

"Seventeen," I said, knowing _immediately_ how old she was. Izzi made a face.

"Okay…so that makes you thirty-four?" I thought for a moment.

"I guess, but why the hell are we talking about this?" I demanded, but never got an answer. The two managers, Firmin and Andre, were walking our way. I swirled my cape and disappeared.

While in my passage under the stage, I heard Izzi and Lizzy burst into a fit of giggles.

I rolled my eyes and made my way back to the lair, walking around the canals, and coming out, once again, soaking. I walked into my crib and sat at the organ again. Suddenly I felt the need to play something and began my theme song (which I wrote myself, by the way).

I played into the night, and then into the early morning, when I started getting louder. I heard a yawn and a moan from Christine's room and I started to play a little, sad song. I cursed to myself when I heard her waking up.

"_I remember there was mist…swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake_," I heard her singing, getting up. She was obviously confused. "_There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat…and in the boat, there was a man…"_

I could feel her looking at me, and heard her stepping closer. My heart started pounding at an alarming rate. I played the same song a little faster, and she kept singing. "_Who was that shape in the shadows…who's is the face in the mask…?_"

Christine walked behind me quietly and stood there, seemingly watching me play. I was about to say something, but a felt a hand touch my mask. I tried to react, but I was frozen. For a brief moment, I thought that she might just be touching my face, but then I felt the cold air circulating in my lair lick the other half of my face and then the mask was off, revealing the horrifying truth.

I screamed in rage, whipping around and throwing her to the ground. She cried out in pain and surprise, and then whimpered when she saw my face, her eyes filled with terror. I stumbled away, not able to see very well covering one eye. "_Christine!_" I bellowed, collapsing on my knees ten feet away.

How could she do that? I've know the girl since she was little and she's always been curious, but never disobeying. Never backstabbing. I must have told her at least once not to ask about my mask. I guess I should have clarified that that meant not _ripping it off my face_ either.

"Christine…" I moaned, more softly now. I heard the rustling of her night dress as she slowly made her way toward me. "Damn you, _damn you_," I muttered, shaking my head. She knelt beside me, but not too close.

"_Stranger than you dreamt it…do you even dare to look, or bear to think of me…this…_" She didn't let me go on with my little 'You'll learn to love me, dammit!' speech, taking my hand off of my face and looking at me for a moment.

"It's just a face," she said, although I could tell she thought it was disgusting.

"Just a face…" I repeated, not convinced at all. My ideas were confirmed when, instead of carrying on the conversation, she handed me back my mask.

Half of me was relieved, but the other half was still vexed. I stood up quickly, dragging her toward the boat. "We must return—those _fools_ who run this joint'll be missing you."

Christine nodded her eyes wide. I sighed quietly, knowing that The Phantom of the Opera was no longer in her mind. Just his face.

**Awwww!!! Poor Erik! I obviously had to put that part in. Did you think that this chapter went to fast? Or was too short? Tell me what you think and REVIEW! Seriously, I have Erik chained in my basement and he feeds on reviews!**


	6. Madame's dirty little secret: revisited!

**A/N: Yey! Chapter 6! What will the gang get into now? Ooh! And, the weekly question is: What is your favorite swear word? Tell me and I'll add it next chapter!**

**I don't own this hunk of cheese. I don't own Erik, but he IS jailed in my basement! :D**

Lizzy POV:

Izzi and I sat around in our dorm, her lying on her makeshift cot, feet to the ceiling, looking at her toes. She was singing 'The Song That Never Ends' over and over, but I couldn't hear her. I was smart to wear earplugs. It was still getting annoying, so I looked at her for a second.

"Would you shut up?" I asked. It was our second day there, and she was already bored?

"Sorry! I'm just really agitated because we can't go see Erik!" Izzi said, letting her legs drop.

"Why can't we?" I asked.

"You heard him, Lizzy! We shouldn't push our luck—I don't want to die!" Izzi exclaimed. Meg walked in with a letter stamped with the red skull.

"Ooh, another love note. Who's it for, Andre?" Izzi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think it's a love note," Meg said, a confused look on her face. "But it's for _you_, girls."

Izzi and I exchanged a glance and she took it. She read it, her mouth slightly open, and then handed it to me.

It was written in red ink with maybe the worst penmanship I've seen from someone over twelve EVER.

_Both of you annoying cleaning girls,_

_Stay away from me. I don't want you to know anything about me or my legend. Don't you even think of figuring out how to get into my lair again, because you won't find it out. And even if you do, you'll probably die anyway._

_Creepily, though, I don't want you to die. I know, it's weird, but still don't get your hopes up! And Isabella, I know your dirty little secret. Don't even try to hide it. Not around me, anyway. I'm the freakin' Angel of Music, woman!_

_As for you, Elizabeth, I don't know either of you very well, but I can definitely tell that you're calmer than Isabella. __Much__ calmer._

_O.G. _

I looked up, horrified. "How many people have seen this?"

Meg shook her head. "Just my mother," She peered at us. "How do you know the Opera Ghost?" she asked cautiously.

Izzi and I exchanged another glance. "We…heard about the legend," I said.

Meg stepped back a little. "But…you're from England, and we try not to publicize his scandals."

"Argh!" Izzi began. "You want the truth, you want the truth?! YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH! No, no truth handler YOU! BAH! I _DERIDE_ your truth handling abilities!"

Meg and I stared at her for a little while. "Er…" Meg glanced around. "Maybe so…but…you should at least tell my mother!"

Izzi blinked. "That's true," she said, shrugging at me. I bit my lip and then nodded, knowing that if Madame Giry could keep The Phantom's secret, she could keep ours.

"Okay, take us to her then," I said, and Meg lead us off.

As she was leading us down the hallways, there was a cold breeze following us. Oh God. If Erik heard us talking about how we came from another time and place just to meet him, he'd probably kill us.

We were led into the theater where Madame Giry was sitting in the front row, reading something. Meg left us alone and we approached her.

"Ah, so you've decided to come," she said without turning around. She put down what she was reading, and looked up at us. She obviously didn't want us to sit down, so we didn't.

"So…what's the deal?" Izzi asked, squirming under Madame's ice-cold gaze.

Madame continued to stare her down, even though she was sitting down. "What do you know about the Ghost?" she asked coolly.

I sighed and Izzi and I exchanged a glance. "Uh…" She winced. "Everything."

Madame raised her eyebrows. "Even what's under his mask? His past? Everything?"

Izzi nodded. "Yeah…his face is why he wears a mask."

"You even know who brought him here? And why, and when?" she asked.

"You did," Izzi said. "You saved him when you were a young girl."

Madame blinked a few times. "_Who are you_?" she whispered.

"I'm Izzi and this is Lizzy…we're from 2009, America," Izzi looked at the floor.

"You're from the future?" Madame looked astonished. "I don't believe it. I _refuse_ to believe it!" She stood up, leaning on her cane.

"Why would we lie? If you think we're lying, then you might as well just send us to the whore house right now!" I exploded. Izzi and Madame turned to stare at me. "Well, it's true!"

"I…can't believe this…" Madame said, looking a bit faint.

"If I may Madame…" Izzi said before smacking her in the face. "Sorry, it's just that you looked faint."

"Oh…I am, though. The twenty-first century! It's impossible!" Madame rambled on for a little while longer.

"Well, with modern technology and…a few Pagan chants…we got here no problemo!" Izzi said. Madame stared at her.

"Is that what people talk like in 2009?" she asked, looking horrified.

"Well…I do. Mostly people talk, sing about, and worship se—" I cut Izzi off.

"Celine Dion!" I finished. Izzi _really_ wasn't good at this social etiquette thing.

"Celine who?" Madame Giry shook her head. "I don't have time for this."

She began to walk out of the isle, but Izzi stopped her. "You can't tell anyone about this. We already know that Erik knows and—"

"How do you know about him?" Madame asked, peering at us.

Izzi whispered something in her ear. Smart girl. She knew that Erik was listening, and didn't want him to know the truth about Gaston Leroux and the whole Andrew Lloyd Webber dealy.

Madame looked at Izzi for a second. "Oh dear…"

"You can't tell him!" she demanded.

"No! Of course not. And I won't tell anyone about you, either." We breathed a sigh of relief. "But—" We looked at her, confused. "I just want to let you know that I think he has the right to know what happens to him at the end of all of this." And with that, she walked away.

"Doesn't she remind you of House MD with her cane?" Izzi asked after awhile, breaking the silence.

I rolled my eyes and walked up the aisle. I didn't realize that Izzi wasn't right behind me until she screamed. I whipped around, and saw her holding an open letter, her hand covering her mouth. The letter has The Phantom's skull seal.

"What is it? What'd he say?" I asked, running up to her. She shook her head and ran backstage at top speed. I decided not to follow her and just shook my head. I looked up into box five and saw a faint shadow.

"What the hell'd you write, you crazy person?" I asked the shadow, and it disappeared. "DAMN YOU, ERIK!" I shouted. I thought I heard a dark maniacal laugh from somewhere under the stage, but I brushed it off as a hallucination.

Humming to myself, I meandered off to my dorm, but was stopped by Christine. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she looked around.

"You were there, right?" she asked quietly.

I looked at her quizzically. "You were underground—with The Angel…he's real, right?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah…you weren't hallucinating."

She sighed, relieved. "Oh thank God! I thought I was crazy! But now I _know_ it was real."

I started to back away slowly as she started ranting about how she thought she was going crazy and such. I blinked a few times, and interrupted with, "—Uh, yeah. Just…don't go looking for him. You'll probably get killed by traps." I proceeded to run away.

Meg and I spent the day window shopping through the town, seeing as how ballet practice was not today and I was off-duty. We went into Meg's favorite boutique, _Destler's Apparel_. I laughed at the name for about ten minutes, and everyone was staring at me. I shook my head and we went in.

I bought Izzi and me a few new dresses that were just as boring as the first ones, not having very many francs on me. Actually, we had almost no francs at the moment. Just about enough to buy a few meals a day. I'd been saving up for a few days to buy something decent to wear. As in, not tattered and splattered with red paint.

Meg eyed my pile of clothes. She smiled at me once I'd bought them. "Are you and Izzi going to the Masquerade Ball?" she asked randomly.

"Uh…isn't that in, like, six months?" I asked, looking at her.

"It's never too early to get ready for a dance!" I nodded, seeing how someone who's not me might think that was reasonable.

I sighed, piling the clothes on our cots, her clothes on hers cot and mine on mine. Obviously. I sighed and wondered where the heck she was. I shook my head and started reading a book Meg had bought me at a book store we'd gone to. The store was called _Webber Books and Fiber Glass Company_.

I turned the page and then looked up. I thought I'd heard someone singing opera below me. Christine was on the other side of the building, so maybe Erik had her down there with him? I raised an eyebrow. The voice didn't sound like Christine's. It sounded…familiar.

**Whoop! What is the mysterious singing? Will Erik find out about Lizzy and I? Will I ever get 'The Song That Never Ends' out of her head? Join us next time and find out! Did you catch my Webber and Destler thing? Hehe. I crack myself freaking up. Post those swears, people! Anywho, seriously, one time my friend turned to me and went, "What are you wearing to 8****th**** grade graduation?" And we were in the middle of seventh grade. I'm like, "I hardly know what I'm gonna wear tomorrow!"**


	7. Oh, the vulgarity! faints

**A/N: Okay, so this is chapter seven. Uh, unfortunately, I'm going on vacation from June 28 to July 1 so that's three days. I probably won't be able to update in those three days, but I will try to write ahead. What will those three days bring into my crazy mind? Hi, any phans in New Hampshire! That's where I'm going! :D Oh, and there's A LOT of swears in this, just take a look at the question of the week!**

**I don't own The Phantom of the Opera, but I own your mom!**

Izzi's POV:

I stomped my foot on the stone floor in frustration. "Erik! I don't want to do that part again! I thought I did pretty good." I crossed my arms.

He turned to stare at me blankly. "_Good_ isn't good enough. Now, from the top."

I grumbled, but did as he said:

"_Think of me,_

_Think of me fondly,_

_When we say goodbye…_

_Remember me_

_Every so often,_

_Promise me you'll try!_

_On that day,_

_That not so distant day,_

_When you are far away and free…_

_If you ever find a moment,_

_Spare a thought for me…"_

He stopped playing the music and turned to me again. "You have such an odd voice."

"I'm, uh, going to take that as a compliment," I said, uncrossing my arms. "I've always considered myself a good singer."

"You are, but you've been ruining your voice all this time when you act like you have a bad one," he looked at me sadly, a look that made it really hard to be law-abiding, if you know what I mean.

"Who could I compare my voice to? I mean, I've always said it's a mix between Sarah Brightman's voice and Rebecca Caine's voice," I said, shrugging.

He gave me a look. "Well…I have no idea who those people are, but I guess I'll believe you," he gave me a look like I was crazy and turned around, starting to play the second part.

"_And thought it's clear,_

_Though it was always clear,_

_That this was never meant to be,_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Stop and think of me…_

_Think of August when the trees were green…_

_Don't think about the things which_

_Might have been…"_

He stopped me again. "That time was better. I really like your '_August_', but sometimes I can't understand a word your saying when you sing high notes. Try again."

I growled and sung the part over. This time I sounded a little better. Then he made me sing it again…and again…and again…

"Do you give Christine this much trouble?!" I asked the fourth time before he could say anything.

"No. I just like annoying you," he grinned evilly.

"Fine. Just…just fine then! I'll sing! I'll sing, dammit!" I took a deep breath and began belting out the words to 'The Song That Never Ends'.

He stared at me for a moment. "Don't…don't _do_ that," he said, shaking his head.

"_This is the song that never ends!_

_Yes, it goes on and on, my friend!_

_Some people started singing it,_

_Not knowing what it was,_

_And they'll continue singing it forever_

_Just because_

_This is the song that never ends!_

_Yes it goes on and on my friend!"_

I sung it for a full forty seconds before Erik's eye started twitching. "Kill…me…" he muttered, seemingly to himself.

"_This is the song that never ends!_

_Yes, it goes on and on, my friend!_

_Some people started singing it,_

_Not knowing what it was,_

_And they'll continue singing it forever_

_Just because_

_This is the song that never ends!_

_Yes, it goes on and on, my friend!_

_Some people started singing it,_

_Not knowing what it was,_

_And they'll continue singing it forever_

_Just because—!"_

At this point, Erik fell out of his chair, going into convulsions. I just laughed and continued singing. I heard his get up and heard footsteps on the stone, but all I could do was sing.

"ARGH!" Erik screamed, and I stopped, looking over at him. He was now soaking wet, and was lying on the cold stone floor near the lake.

"What was that about?" I asked, placing my hand on my hips.

He looked at me for a few seconds. "I tried to drown myself."

"Why didn't you just drown me?" I asked incredulously.

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Because one, I was having spasms, and two, I want to die anyway, so I'd just be killing two birds with one stone!"

Sadly, his reasoning made sense. "Let's just get back to lessons," I said, looking for something to break the silence.

"No, I've got things to do…people to see…threatening letters to write…you better go," He said, still lounging on the ground.

"Fine by me," I said, shrugging, and climbed into the boat. "Bon voyage, Erika!" I called, starting to row myself across the lake.

I heard him growl and was suddenly glad that I had good upper-arm strength. I rowed faster, not wanting to be found in Mexico two weeks later with a noose around my neck and my eyes cut out and in a small glass jar beside me.

I hopped out a laughed a little, realizing that Erik would have to trudge through the canals to get the boat. Walking up the many stairs, I felt really, really happy for the first time since I came here. I had just been TUTORED by THE PHANTOM OF THE FREAKIN' OPERA! It was something every mental teenager dreamed of!

I found a trapdoor that led to box five and shrugged. I'll take what I gets. I climbed out and coughed. It was really dusty in here. Ah, well. I walked out, and turned around, coming face-to-face with Andre.

"What were you doing in box five?" Andre asked. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and wore lei around his neck.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked. He looked down.

"Uh…never mind that. What were you doing in there?" he demanded.

"I was cleaning, of course!"

"Weren't you instructed not to clean box five alone?" he asked.

"Yes, but I was just going to air it out a bit!" I persisted. He gave up and walked away.

Shrugging, I made my way back to my dorm, where Lizzy was sitting on her cot, reading. She looked up. "Hi," she said. "Where were you?"

"Where were _you_?" I retaliated.

She raised an eyebrow. "Just wanted to know. Jesus."

I flopped down onto my cot, and heard a high-pitched squeak. A rat scurried out of the fabric of it. "OH SHIT! WHAT THE FRIG?!" I screamed, jumping up and kicking the rat out the window. There was a high-pitched 'Eeeeeeeeee!' sound and it fell to its death.

Meg opened the door slowly. "What was that?" she asked quietly.

I looked at her. "Oh. There was a rat in my cot. I kicked it. Kicked it GOOD!" I shouted. Meg blinked a few times and back away, pulling the door shut.

Lizzy stared at me for a second and then pounced on me. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?! AAAAAAAAGRRRRRHHH!"

I kicked her off of me and pinned her to the wall. "It's NONE of your BUSSINESS!"

She spit in my face, making me let go. I wiped her spit off of my face and growled, wrestling her to the ground and pulling her hair. "TELL ME, YOU FUGLY NUT!" she screeched, flipping me over and pulling _my_ hair.

"Okay, fine, fine!" I pushed her off. "I was with Erik. In his lair."

Lizzy stared at me, a disgusted look on her face. "Izzi, you're only thirteen!"

I screamed, "NO! MAN ALIVE, BITCH, I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT! OH MY GOD, YOU SICKO! He was tutoring me with _singing_ not…anything else! Jesus Christ on a fuckin' crutch!" I fell on my bed, muttering about how much of a freak she was.

"Well, _sor-ry!_" she said. "That's what it sounded like to me, and you've been known to be a little inappropriate."

I looked at her with the dirtiest, most disgusted face I could muster. "What do you mean _inappropriate?!_ JESUS FREAKING CHRIST, LIZZY! I'm gonna butcher you!" I jumped on her, and she immediately pushed off.

"Don't attack _me!_" she exclaimed, sitting on her bed and opening her book again. "I bought us some more clothes. There." She gestured to the clothes beside my bed.

I picked up the least boring dress that I could find and put it on. It was navy blue with a medium-cut V-neck and a black ribbon around waist that tied in the back. The skirt came a little above my ankle, so I put on some work shoes and tied my hair into a low ponytail.

"Well, off to clean. Is it your off day?" I asked Lizzy.

"Yes," she muttered. I shrugged and walked out and down the hall, fixing my hair some more as I went. I realized why I had been so off around Erik today. It was because he reminded me so much of a father, something I didn't have here. Well, I didn't have a mother here, either, but whatevs.

I sighed and picked up a rag and bucket from a closet, making my way down the stairs, into the lobby. I began to scrub each stair as I'd been instructed.

There was a rustling behind me as if a lady was gathering up her skirts to go up the stairs, so I moved off to the side. The woman climbed the stairs, stopping in front of me. So I looked up, coming face-to-face with Christine. God, she was short for someone her age.

"Hello," she said.

I smiled and went back to scrubbing the stairs. "You were there…you were the one dressed in…Lord knows what," she said, still standing there.

"I don't know what you mean," I said calmly.

"But…your friend already told me that you two were really there!" she gasped.

I mentally cursed Lizzy and stood up to face her again. "Okay, yes. We were there."

"What do you know about The Angel of Music?" she asked suspiciously. I sighed. It seemed as if everyone around here was asking that.

"I know a lot. Now, if you please, Ms. Daae…" I gestured for her to leave so I could finish.

She sighed exasperatedly and walked up the stairs, turning into her dressing room. I watched her and shook my head, feeling a cool breeze enter the room.

"Leave me alone," I muttered, going back to wash the stairs she'd ruined.

**Okay! This chapter was a tiny bit uneventful, but…I really didn't have that much time to write it.**


	8. Complete Makeover: Lair Edition

**A/N: I am in the car on the way to NH writing this!...And listening to LoveGame…yase! For the past three hours I've been listening to The Phantom of the Opera audio book :D It's so much different from the musical, but it's all good. It's basically backward, for example, Christine goes to the graveyard in chapter 7! Anyway…**

Erik's POV:

I sat in front of my organ, pouring over the score of _Faust_, when I heard a wail that sounded grievous. "NO! NO, NOT BILLY! ANYONE BUT BILLY!"

I growled, recognizing the voice as Isabella's. Rushing down to the edge of the lake, I heard her scream something about a cleaning product called 'Oxi-clean'. I jumped into the boat, and rowed, hearing multiple blood-curdling screams. Well, that part I kinda liked, and the girl had some had pipes, but it was getting pretty annoying.

I jumped from the ceiling of their dorm. "SHUT UP!" I roared, making my voice echo. I heard another scream behind me and realized Meg was there too. I blinked, and then tried to look as ominous and shadowy as I could. "_You are disturbing me!_" I echoed, pulling out my Punjab lasso.

Izzi looked at me, unimpressed. "You won't use that," she declared as Meg ran out screaming.

I grumbled. "How do you know? Maybe that was the last straw!" I moved toward her menacingly with the lasso.

She rolled her eyes. "I can't handle this right now!" she wailed, suddenly in tears. Startled, I backed away a bit, putting down my lasso. "Billy Mays just died!"

"Who the hell is Billy Mays?" I asked, puzzled. My lasso dropped, and I realized that I couldn't kill these girls. First of all, they had a family back in 2009. But, aside from that which I don't care about, Izzi could _sing_. I don't kill talented people. And Lizzy…well, Izzi would probably never talk to me again and go back to her own time if I killed her.

"The Oxi-clean guy! You know…" she made a mustache-beard combo with her hands. "'YOU CAN'T DENY THE STAIN-FIGHTING POWER OF OXI-CLEAN! IT REMOVES GRASS STAINS, DOES YOUR HOMEWORK, CURES CANCER, AND EVEN BALANCES YOUR CHECKBOOK!'" She then removed her hands. "That guy?"

"I…" Okay, now I was utterly speechless.

She held up a glossy black rectangle-shaped thing. "I saw it on my Blackberry!" she exclaimed. Lizzy ran in.

"Izzi! What the cheese?! Get that away from him!" She pushed Izzi away.

"He already knows we're from the future, you nut!" she hollered back.

I heard a troupe of footsteps running down the hall, and swung back into the secret passage, saying, "I'm getting away from you creeps!"

I could hear shouting below and laughed maniacally. As soon as I did that, there was complete silence. "What did he do to you?" someone asked at last, breaking the silence.

Now there were shouts of the Opera Ghost all over the House…great. Two cleaning girls had seen him and he'd yelled at them. Great, one thing I need is more publicity. End sarcasm.

I decided to see what Christine was up to, so I went down to the stage. She was backstage, looking at herself in a mirror. Usually, I try to keep myself mysterious around her. I mean, she still thinks I'm an angel, after all the times I've murdered people. Whatevs.

I dropped behind her. She whipped around and stifled a scream. I heaved a big sigh. "_Christine…you don't have to be afraid_," I said, holding out my hand.

She shook her head, but took my hand anyway. I led her to the stage and down the stairs in the trapdoor. I took her other hand and started singing a random song, and she just smiled.

"You don't have to sing every time we meet," she said, interrupting my song.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, I figured I'd be mysterious while I'm at it, right?"

She giggled; a beautiful sound. I smiled. "Let's go," I suggested, leading her down. But instead of the boat, I found Izzi sitting in an armchair, wearing a hardhat.

I glared and expressed my anger by cursing very loudly multiple times. By the end, Christine was staring at me like I had six heads. Izzi looked up from a blueprint, watching me freak out on her, mildly interested.

"Calm it, woman," she said at last. "I'm doing you a favor."

"WHAT KIND OF FAVOR COULD YOU BE DOING FOR ME?" I asked, gesturing toward the many pipes and such being assembled by many workmen.

"I'm building you a more exciting way to get to you lair, of course!" she rolled her eyes.

"How?" Christine asked finally, looking behind Izzi curiously.

Izzi smiled and turned her back to us, spreading her arms out and looking up at the gargantuan machine she was building. "I call it—The Phlume!"

We both stared at her for a moment. "What?!" I screamed, breaking the silence. She turned back around and crossed her arms. Just then, Lizzy came walking down the stairs with about ten workmen around her, carrying supplies.

"That conveyor belt goes in sector nine of the rollercoaster, Jean...yes, yes, the wheels go _under_ the conveyor belt," she said to one of them, handing them a fresh blueprint. She turned to another one. "Francoise, go over there and weld those bars. Gregory, take that cement mixer over…_there_."

I gasped in disbelief as a giant cement mixer rolled past me, red lights flashing. "What the—" The truck's bleeping noise drowned out my swear "—is that?!"

"It's a cement mixer…DUH!" Lizzy said, sticking out her tongue.

"Well, whatever it is, I want it OUT…_NOW_!" I hollered, pointing to the door. Izzi shook her head.

"You have no way to get into your lair until we're finished," she said.

"WHAT?!" I lunged at her, only to tackle Christine who had evidently stepped in front of me, trying to stop me.

She rolled over, ending up on top of me. "Oh…uh…" She blushed. I chuckled slightly and helped her up. Izzi and Lizzy were making weird faces and wiggling their eyebrows at me. I scowled and started to walk toward them slowly, pulling out my lasso.

Christine grabbed my wrist. "Please, Angel, don't."

"Yeah, Erik! Don't! Jesus Christ!" Izzi said mockingly.

"Erik? Is that your name?" Christine asked softly, turning me toward her. I held onto her arms and looked into her big, beautiful, blue eyes. "I shouldn't be here," she whispered, shaking her head and running up the stairs. I kept my eyes on her retreating figure, and turned to Izzi and Lizzy, now more sad than angry.

"She left me," I said sadly.

Izzi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for, like, two minutes," she said, crossing her arms.

I smirked down at her. "Are you…_jealous_?"

"No! No I am _not_!" she screamed, turning away. "Now, let's get back to The Phlume." She led me onto a little boardwalk-type-dealy, as if she were building a bridge. She let Lizzy alone to manage to workers. The boardwalk trailed along beside a winding cement track, much like my original canals, but thinner, with a lesser chance of flipping over in the boat.

There was suddenly the track turned into metal with a half-finished conveyor belt on it and wheels. It went up at an alarming angle, and, as she led me up the boardwalk, I saw that it ended in an _at least_ thirty-foot drop, down into another canal, leading to yet _another_ track. This track looked more like a railroad track, and had two little cars on it that sort of looked like what coal miners ride in. The track was scarily winding and had many steep drops. The track ended right at the edge of the entrance of my lair's stone stairway, where something Izzi told me was a 'brake' stopped the cars.

"So, as you can see, you first begin with a calm, soothing flume ride, ending in THE DROP OF DEATH! Then, you get into the rollercoaster, which we designed especially for you—" She gestured to the carts, which were decorated with a really cool decal of a mask and a rose "—and you go down the track with sideways turns and such…it ends in another thirty-foot drop, then you get out. Ta da! We even made measurements according to the length of your song, _The Phantom of the Opera_, so Christine'll hit the last note at the exact time she would be screaming anyway!" She ended it with a nod.

I stared at the thing for awhile. "Uh, why couldn't you just leave me alone and let me keep my boat?!" I yelled, shaking my fist at her. She was cowering, holding her clipboard in front of her face.

She took down the clipboard. "This way is…cooler!"

I screamed nothing in particularly, utterly enraged. "YOU BITCH! LEAVE ME THE FRIG ALONE!"

She held the clipboard up again. "This way is the exact same time to get there AND you don't have to row! But…you can't stand up either…" she grimaced. "BUT…you won't have to sing that song to her again, so no more standing up. It's also really fun!" She grinned uncertainly.

"_I…hate…you…_" I muttered through my clenched teeth.

"I love you, too, Erik. Now, let's go back," she said flatly, leading me back to the stairs, where a white horse was waiting.

"What's that?" I asked, gesturing toward the horse.

"A horse…?" Izzi looked at me as if I was stupid.

"No, I mean, why is there horse there, and how did he get in?!" I yelled, throwing my hands up.

"I thought you could use a horse! I mean, there are a lot of stairs that Christine has to walk down. I mean, _you_ never use the stairs, but…ya know." She finished, walking over to the horse. "I stole him from the stables. His name is Caesar."

I nodded, going over to examine Caesar. He was a fine, snow white horse that seemed to be in good health. I wondered what Izzi had had to do to get him down here, but then reminded myself that she got a cement truck down here, so I shouldn't even ask.

"Well…thanks for the…horse…and…Phlume? I hate it, and hate you, but…thanks?" I didn't really understand what I was saying.

She looked at me sadly for a second and then went over to Lizzy to help boss around the workers. I watched her, my expression turning sad also. I felt a friendship toward her, even though I truly hated her right now. I loved Christine, and it didn't feel like this. It was a fatherly feeling, and that's all it was. _ALL_ it was.

**Heh…yeah, he's not falling for me, don't worry. Okay, so this was a funny chap, right? THE DROP OF DEATH! XD Read on, my brothas! And I SWEAR that I shall put in some Raoul/Christine next chapter!**


	9. Erik and the white tank top

**A/N: If this chapter sucks, I'm sowwy! I am NOT good at Raoul/Christine. In fact, I SUCK, but I promised, so…and also, I'm not really in the mood for writing because Billy Mays died! :'( As my friend, PencilKeys, said to me: I can't believe the thing about Billy Mays dying... It just feels wrong to know we won't be able to have him shouting at us to buy stuff anymore... And I swear I'm not joking about this!**

**We all agree with you, Penkey! Okay…now, aside from that, I don't own TPOTO OR Billy Mays.**

Lizzy's POV:

I tapped the wall to the beat of Aly&AJ, listening to them on my IPod. Izzi was working on the final touches of the blueprints when she looked up and said, "We should play a prank on someone!"

I looked over at Izzi. "That was random."

She nodded solemnly. "I've been known to be random. Now, who should we prank?"

Rolling my eyes, I said, "How about we don't prank anyone?"

Izzi thought for a moment. "We could spy on someone!" She jumped up, pointing to the door of our dorm. "TO THE HALLWAY!"

I followed her TO THE HALLWAY, and we stood there for a second. "Well? Who are we spying upon?" I asked, crossing arms impatiently. She held up a finger to silence me and pulled me into a nook in the wall, a pillar in front of us.

Raoul was coming down the hall, strutting and combing his sideburns. I stifled a laugh. "Him," Izzi whispered, pulling me down the hall silently after him.

He ended up outside Christine's dressing room, where giggling ballerinas were filing out. He knocked once on the door and it opened, not revealing the person inside. Izzi and I groaned in unison and looked through a keyhole.

Christine was sitting at her vanity with an expression of confusion. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders, the sausage barrel curls making abstract designs on her arms. She looked at Raoul. "Hello."

"Hello, Christine," Raoul replied softly, taking her hand. She stood up and threw her arms around him, crying into his shirt.

"Ssh, Ssh…what's wrong?" he asked gently. I looked sideways at Izzi, knowing she was more of an Erik/Christine shipper, but she was watching with interest.

"I…I know not why I cry like this…I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shirt, which was now damp.

"Don't worry about it, really. Just tell me why you're upset," he replied gently, stroking her hair.

Christine sobbed some more before saying, "It's all of this pressure…to make my voice great. I am not myself when I sing, Raoul, and it scares me. I am a completely different person. What _he_ taught me to be." She started to sob again.

"He? As in Daddy Daae?" Raoul asked, a confused expression on his face.

"No…The Angel, Raoul! You remember when Father used to tell us about Little Lottie and her Angel of Music. It's true, he's _real_, and it scares me," she whispered. She pushed away from him hurriedly, saying, "We shouldn't be talking here. Not now."

"But Christine! How can I ever help you if you don't let me?" he asked desperately.

"Raoul…we can't…I can't…don't talk to me—ever again! You'll only put yourself in danger, a worse danger than you are in already." Her eyes were pleading.

"No, Christine, I can't do that," he said, taking her hand. "You need my help!"

Christine stayed silent for a long time and then said, "The Angel of Music is still singing songs in my head. And I can't stop him, and I'm scared of what he might do to you." She touched his cheek lightly. "I wish I could keep you safe, but only _you_ can do that. Please, Raoul, listen."

Raoul shook his head, taking her face in his hands. "I cannot do that. I need to be there for you."

Christine scowled and shook him off. "I should have known you wouldn't listen to me!"

"Christine, that's not you talking! What's happening?" Raoul asked, seizing her wrist.

"_Go away and never come back_!" she screamed, running toward the door. Izzi and I backed away, and pretended to be examining the carpet when she came out.

"You!" she yelled at us, pointing. "You know about this! _You can't_!" She ran down the steps and out of the door of the Opera House.

"What a Drama Queen!" Izzi muttered. Raoul came out, glanced at us, and went down the steps after Christine.

"Stalker," I murmured, sticking my tongue out at Raoul. In the dressing room there was a bit of loud cursing and a THUMP, following by more cursing.

"Damn cape! Freaking OW! You dirty mothersucker!" Izzi and I turned our attention to the door of Christine's dressing room, which Izzi promptly opened. We came across Erik stumbling out of the mirror awkwardly, a corner of his cape caught on a hinge.

He looked up and cursed some more, this time at us. "Close the damn door!" I did as I was told. "Damn Raoul! ARGH!"

Izzi walked up and released his cape of the hinge. "What's up, Erik?" she asked.

"What's up?! Christine loves that..._guy_!" Erik hollered. Izzi quieted him, warning him that people would hear him. "No! I shall not be silenced! RAPIST!" Erik screamed.

Izzi raised an eyebrow, hearing footsteps in the passage, and shoved him back into the mirror. "Ssh! I'm not a rapist, and you just attracted a bunch of attention!"

"Doo de lala doooooo!" Erik hummed. It was then that we noticed the mostly empty liquor bottle in his hand.

"Oh, Jesus Christ on a crutch," Izzi said, putting her face in her hand. I tore the bottle from his hands, earning many loud protests from the man who had just fallen over.

"Ssh!" I commanded, slapping him. The managers were now in the dressing room, inquiring after Christine. Well, obviously she isn't here! I felt like saying. Andre looked behind the curtain to the inner room, receiving a smack upside the head by Firmin.

"We didn't come to look at her panties!" he gasped, and Andre spun around.

"We didn't?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"No! Now start searching for Ms. Daae," Firmin said, looking under the vanity.

"But I was! She might have been in the inner room!" Andre protested, looking under a chair.

"Shut up, Andre. Why am I the sensible one today?" Firmin asked, mainly asking himself. He lifted up a corner of the rug.

"Maybe you're not, considering that you're searching under the rug for her!" Andre scoffed and walked toward the door. "She's obviously not here. I guess we'll never know why someone she screaming 'RAPIST!' and who was raping her."

"What a shame," Firmin said flatly, walking out the door, following Andre. The door shut loudly.

There was a soft rustling as Christine came from the inner room. "How the hell did she get there?" Erik said grogily. Izzi and I shrugged, watching Christine walk to her vanity and pick up the black-ribbon-clad rose.

"_Christine_," he said mysteriously. Izzi kicked him a little, but he waved away her foot.

Christine looked around nervously. "Erik? Were you there the whole time?!" She looked horrified. "Please, Erik, don't come here again. Talk to me anywhere else, but here...I must have my privacy."

Erik sighed and said, "Yes. Yes, of course, my muse." He stood up with a groan.

"Can we come?" I asked hopefully. He just waved at us dismissively, so we shrugged and followed him. He cried out in rage when he saw The Phlume, looking as if he was about to burst. I rolled my eyes and pushed him into the flume ride, and Izzi and I hopped in as well.

We went down the winding paths, screaming and laughing. I think Izzi was especially fond of sitting in a small car-like-thing with Erik. We finally arrived at his lair and got out. He immediately stumbled over to his organ and began injecting morphine into his system. Izzi groaned and thew the needle across the room.

"Seriously, man! She didn't say she doesn't love you! Calm down and stop being such a drama queen!" she yelled. I really had nothing to say in this.

The next thing that happened was really weird. Erik was delerious, and we were all acting like ourselves, but suddenly he broke down, and leaned into Izzi, crying on her shirt.

Izzi's eyes widened, and she looked at me like 'WHAT THE HELL?!' I gave a shrug back, and she patted Erik's head. He just kept crying and finally Izzi sighed, looking bored. She lifted his head and looked into his eyes, which looked really weird because they have a twenty-one-year age difference.

"Look here," she said, looking mildly interested. "Get over yourself. Just because you can't watch Christine in her undies anymore, you don't have to be an ass."

He blinked. I watched as Izzi bit her lip and helped him up, pushing him toward his room. He dissapeared behind the door, and Izzi turned to me, her eyes wide. She looked down at her tank top, which was drenched in his tears.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed. We jumped up and down, cackling like the phangirls we were. Luckily, he was still fast asleep. Izzi put on her dress, taking off her tank top, and holding it up. "I am _so_ keeping this..."

And that she did.


	10. The amazing plight of Izzi

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm sorry it took so long to update, I just have no freaking idea what to write :P**

**I'm also doing three things in different windows at the same time O_O**

**Thanks to The Phan Ghost, Penkey, mcphan4eva, alexdear15 (a.k.a. writer! :D), Bella's Sister, and Fop Huntress! I love you guys! Although I don't own you or any Phantom stuff.**

Izzi's POV:

From the last time I'd spied on Raoul and Christine (which was about a week ago), I had acquired a taste for it. Of course, there was now nothing to spy on _them_ for, so I had to spy on other people. And so the story begins.

O_O—O_O

I crept behind the wall, on my way to the managers' office. Yes, I was using one of Erik's secret passageways. He would probably get mad, but…meh, whaddaya gonna do? So, anywho, I was behind the wall on the managers' office when they walked in.

"Well!" said Andre. "Carlotta is certainly in a fit."

"Yes. I guess Christine Daae isn't performing for opening night again," Firmin replied, his face red.

"I'm sorry about your lamp, Firmin." At this, he began to sniff.

I heard a dry chuckle beside me and I jumped back, saying, "_What the frig_?!"

I felt someone touch my face and a match was struck, flooding the passage with light. Erik's face with about six inches from mine, much to my delight and his horror. Unfortunately, the passage wasn't big enough for him to move much farther away.

"_What are you doing here_?!" he hissed, glaring daggers at me.

"_I was spying on the managers_! _What are YOU doing_?!" I hissed back. He rolled his eyes, taking me by the waist (which almost made me pee my pants), and dragged me down the hall.

We came into a bigger passage, and he let go of my waist. I scoffed and slipped my own arm around _his_ waist. "How _you_ doin'?" I asked.

He pushed me away. "Get off of me, you creepy woman!"

I pretended to look hurt. "Sor-_ry_!"

He crossed his arms. "So. Why were you spying on the managers?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why were you?"

"I'm supposed to! It's my job!" he replied, holding out an envelope in his handwriting, addressed to the managers.

"Well, I have an addiction to spying on people! So if you're trying to tell me something, just come out and say it man, I mean, no need to be hatin' on a brotha!" I replied, shaking my head at him.

He stared blankly for a second. "I…don't…know…what you just said…but…erm…"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Dun worry 'bout it, bra."

"What?!"

"Never mind!" I said, stalking back to the smaller passage to continue spying on the managers. I stood there behind the wall, watching them talk about Erik and Carlotta and something about Andre's cat and a motorized tie rack, which doesn't make much sense, considering it's the 1800s.

Erik slipped next to me silently, and I could feel him shifting. Suddenly his face was very close to mine and he said in my ear, "Are you honestly addicted to spying?"

"Yeah, why?" I whispered back. There was a pause.

"We'll talk about this later." And that was the end of it. We stood there for a little while, watching the managers talk about squirrels.

"What the hell?" Erik asked, when Andre said, "Do you think squirrels know about the toast scandal?"

"I…don't…know…" I said slowly. Erik silently slipped the letter through a hole in the wall, which was hidden by a picture, and it landed on their desk. They looked at each other in horror and picked it up to read it.

He chuckled and seized my wrist, leading me out of the passage and into his lair. "I'm so lucky that I don't _have_ to use the Plume."

"Hey! I had to bribe a lot of people to build that! Plus it took me most of my francs and I'm now betrothed to the son of the Prime Minister of Algeria!" I yelled, shaking my fist.

"What? You're getting married and you're thirteen?" he peered at me.

I scoffed. "I said I was _betrothed_. God!"

"Okay, yeah, whatever. So, anyway, about your addiction, I was thinking that I could use it. You see, I'm working on an opera, and sometimes I don't have time to scare the shit out of people, and spy on them at the same time. So that's three things I'm doing all at once. I was wondering if you would start spying on people for me," Erik said, and looked at me hopefully.

I thought for a moment. "Okay, I guess."

He smiled and then said, "Well, carry on then. First, go spy on Christine…you may use any of the passageways you need."

I grinned and trotted out, getting into the Phlume (we had built a separate track to go back up to the surface as well). I got to the other side and walked the rest of the way up.

I snuck behind the mirror, and looked out. Christine was practicing in her nightgown, and stiffened, as if she sensed me. "Erik? I told you to never come see me here. Anywhere but here, darling."

I stifled a laugh. Darling. Hehe! Anywho, I then said, "Christine, you're making me feel so loved! This isn't Erik, B-T-W!"

Christine's eyes widened. "Who are you?! What are you doing here?!" I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the mirror. She stifled a screech, and stared at me with large eyes. "Oh my…"

"I know, I know, I'm not who you were expecting. But does it matter? He sent me here to talk to you," I waved my hands.

Christine sat at her vanity and looked into the flame on the burning candle. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm sort of Erik's messenger. He wanted me to give you this," I said, taking a letter out. I had actually written myself many times over as a fantasy. It was originally a departing letter saying that Erik was dumping Christine for me, but I cleaned it up a bit and made it viewable.

She tried to take it, but I figured that she would see that it wasn't his handwriting or ink, so I said, "I'll read it to you. You can get the vibe better from my voice."

She shook her head, but looked up at me expectantly. "It reads:

_Dearest Christine, _

_I must leave you. Why, I cannot say. Where I am going, you cannot know. How I will get there…err, I haven't decided yet. But one thing I can tell you, any time I hear the wind blow, it will whisper the name... Christine. And so let us part with a love that will echo through the ages. _

_Erik."_

I looked up, to see her in tears. She was sobbing loudly, wiping her eyes with her shawl. I could hardly believe that a note I had copied off of _The Simpsons_ and replaced the names could make someone break down like that. "H-He's l-leaving?!" she wailed, her face in her hands.

I nodded slowly. "I thought you liked Raoul…"

"But Erik is my Angel of Music! He can't leave me like this!" she cried.

"Well I'll be jiggered, you really do like him?" I put my hands on my hips. "Do you even _know_ what you want anymore?!"

That just made her sob harder. "Of course I love him! But he's like my father…he gave me my voice, but my heart is somewhere else…" she said, looking off wistfully.

I shook with anger. "You common little two-a-penny thing!" She gasped and stared at me when I said that. "Do you _know_ how much you're hurting him, you little _slut_!" I couldn't help myself. In a situation like this, a truly caring person would withdraw themselves and think of neither man as a love interest. At least, that's what I would do.

"How _dare_ you say that!" she wailed, sobbing again.

I growled and crumpled the letter. "I wish he _did_ leave you!" I said, and stomped back into the mirror while she wasn't looking. What a bitch!

Suddenly Erik was there, at my throat. "_You!_" he growled, pressing down on my windpipe. I thought for a second that this was it and that I had pushed him too far. I was gonna die right here and now.

I ripped off his mask in a desperate attempt to get him off of me, if only for a second. He ignored me, although his arm did twitch, as if to move to cover his face. I clawed at his hands, trying to make him stop. My eyes widened and realized that no matter how much he choked me, I would still love that man.

He threw me back, and I hit my head on the stone wall. My throat hurt like hell. "_Bitch! You dirty, lying BITCH!_" I winced at his words, but stood slowly, backing up against the wall. He continued screeching at me, and I had to turn my head to the side in order to keep his face from smashing into mine.

"My throat…" I moaned, my voice sounding and _feeling_ like sandpaper.

"I don't give a rat's ass about your throat!" he yelled, using a phrase I believe I taught him.

"_I'll never be able to sing again_," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "_You ruined my voice, you…_" I was too tired to think of something bad to call him.

He grabbed hold on my shoulders and shook me, banging my head against the wall multiple times. "_I don't care!_" he yelled in my face. I thought about closing my eyes, but knew that he wouldn't receive any feeling from that. I looked him straight in the eyes, and especially at the mutilated half of his face.

"You bitch," he said finally, shoving me down the hallway. "Get out of my sight, and I never want to see you again."

I ran down the hall and out a trapdoor, dropping directly into the dorm. I threw myself on my cot and sobbed harder than I ever have before, which made my throat hurt even more. I knew Lizzy was off somewhere cleaning, and was half glad she wasn't here to comfort me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and groped for my tear-stained tank top that Erik had caused last week. I finally got a hold of it and hugged it, tears still streaming down my face; I had taken verbal and now physical abuse from that man, yet still loved him unconditionally. This was too much to handle, let alone much too mature for a thirteen-year-old to go through.

I'd gone too far in my phandom. I felt the back of my head and realized that it was bleeding a little. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, just wanting to die. "I'm sorry," was the last thing I said, hoping Erik would hear me. I'd always hated women who took abuse unconditionally, but now I knew…now I was one of them, and I even had the power to go, but I didn't. It was like I couldn't.

I sobbed one last time and tried not to fall asleep, knowing that I probably had a concussion and didn't want to die. I sat up and looked around, taking a shot of Diet Coke I had brought with us. I felt a little better, but realized I needed to see a doctor.

I ran out of the room and to the first person I thought of: Madame Giry.


	11. The rusty oasis and Izzi's sassy return

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update last time; I couldn't think of a damn thing to write. Now that I've suffered the required abuse from Erik, both verbal and physical, we can move on…with…whatever it is we're moving on with. About the thing with the swears: I've been there for two weeks…he's probably picked them up from me**_** and **_**I don't know any oldtimey swears O___O Yeah, last chapter was kinda dramatic and sorta violent …anyway…And I already have the whole finale planned out! *zips lips***

**I don't own Erik or anyone, but he pwned me in the last chapter. Poor me, being a hormonal teen :P**

Erik's POV:

Let me just start out by saying this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHH!

I AM SO ANGRY! OBVIOUSLY! What in the world would _possess_ Isabella to do something like this?! What the frig?!

Anyway, that didn't matter now. What mattered was that Christine believed I was going away, and was upset. I would cheer that she actually wants me to stay, but it's not really the time for that.

As I approached the mirror, I could hear poor Christine crying up a storm. She was yelling at someone to stay away. I looked and saw that it was the managers who had heard her laments. I shook my head as she continued to sob, and stepped out of the mirror.

She looked up for a second and then went back to sobbing. "Christine?" I asked, walking closer.

"If you're going to leave, then leave!" she bellowed her face in her hands. Wow, I never thought I would say this, but what a Drama Queen.

"I'm not going to leave you, Christine. I am your angel of music. Isabella was just playing a trick on you!" I stood in front of her, not knowing what to do.

She looked up. "She was just lying?" I nodded. "Then, you're not leaving?" Another nod. She sighed in relief. "Good…you would take my voice with you, Erik."

I frowned. "So that's all that matters, is that I gave you your voice? Not that I comforted you when needed or that I've tried to give you everything you could ever want?"

She looked at me with wide eyes. "What? No, I meant you're my angel of music, so…I dunno…"

I squinted and whirled around, into the mirror. She looked around, dazed. "Where did you go?" she asked, and I ran down the passage, back into my lair.

I was muttering inaudible things. Actually, the only thing you could hear was, "Little…talk…for the…squirrels…"

I sat down at my organ and poked a random key, the organ making a high-pitched squealing sound. I winced. "I think I need to tune this thing…"

I pulled my tuning knife of and started fiddling with the pipes. I discovered a shrunken head lodged in one of my reed pipes, and my stop knob was crusted with blood. I shrugged and washed it off, then each individual pipe. This took my mind off of Christine for awhile, but I still had a gnawing feeling in the back of my head.

Through all that cleaning and tuning, I actually started to feel bad for hurting Izzi. I mean she was only trying to protect me, if you break it down a lot and remove the fact that she was doing it out of selfishness. I liked her anyway, she was usually good people. And she had a good voice, something to work with. But she pissed me off so damn much…ugh.

I sighed and decided to spruce up the ol' torture chamber. I walked up the stairs to the little window looking into the torture chamber and sighed, rubbing my chin and gazing around at my metal vegetation. "Hm…I think I need more metal…" I squinted and looked at the oasis. The scene looked a little sketchy. Note to self: make the oasis look more like an oasis.

I sighed and walked down the stairs again, and looked around the lair. I really had nothing to do, so I might as well go check up on Izzi. Now I actually felt guilty, which was weird O_O

I opened the door to my lair, walked out of the gate and sat in the returning Phlume, riding it to the surface, face expressionless the whole time. While I was riding, I thought of when I picked on her, or earlier today when I totally pwned her in the passageway. She was just a stupid girl, a weak woman who was letting me abuse her in multiple ways. I hate women like that, to be frank.

So why was I going to check on her? I dunno. Anywho, I started to search for her and Madame. They weren't near the stage; they weren't in her dorm, so I went to check the opera doctor's office. They were there. Izzi was facing the side of the wall I was behind and was grumbling while the doctor picked at her head wound.

"Okay, there's something called hand sanitizer—it's the second coming, I'm tellin' ya," Izzi said, scowling at me. Even though she couldn't see me (or, at least, that' s what I _thought_), she was glaring right at me.

The doctor stared at her for a moment. "Yes…she definitely has a concussion…" he said slowly.

Izzi pshed, and Madame exchanged a glance with the doctor. I rolled my eyes, and moved around a little. I suddenly felt a stabbing sensation on the bottom of my foot. I made a 'Nmmmph!' noise, and hopped up and down. All three people looked up. "What was that?" the doctor asked.

Madame and Izzi looked at each other. "Nothing," they said in unison, Izzi's mouth in something less like a frown and more like a…_super_ frown…right at me.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain and hobbled down the passage, down a trap door, and to the Phlume…or is it Flume? Flume is an actual word, and Plume is a word too, but Lizzy explained that they named it after me, thus me 'Ph'...but who cares? Nobody.

I took the _Phlume_ back to my hutch—I mean lair—and walked into my room, closing the door right behind me. I stared at the door for a little bit and sighed, turning around. Izzi was standing right there, arms crossed, tapping her foot.

"Aaah! What the hell are you doing in here? How did you get here?!" I asked, backing up against the door.

"I have my ways," she said gravely. She pulled out something wrapped in a towel.

"What the…?"

She removed the towel, revealing a dagger. My eyes widened. "You know…even if you do threaten to stab me, I could kill you. I know how to kill someone seventeen ways with these fancy leather shoes."

She shook her head slowly and walked toward me. "You don't get it, do you? It's like this: let's say you're a butcher—"

"That I am—"

"Shut up! Anyway, you're a butcher, and I'm a piece of meat—"

"That you are—"

"Shut _up_. So anyway, I'm a piece of meat…and you just keep pounding me and pounding me, tenderizing me relentlessly…well, sooner or later, that meat is gonna get tough from all that pounding! I've reached that stage." She finished with a little nod.

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That's the same spiel that every battered housewife gives. First of all, we're not married…ugh…and second…just…what?! Why are you acting like a victim? I know you're capable of standing up for yourself, that's why I'm so mean to you all the time. But in that passageway, when I was smacking you around a bit, you totally became a rag doll, and it sickened me." I stood up straight. "What were you planning to do with that dagger anyhow?"

She looked down at the dagger. "Well, I was gonna threaten you with it, maybe give you a little gash—"

"No you wouldn't…and you know it. You're smart enough to know that I could kick your ass any day of the week," I said, shrugging.

She glared. "Well _duh_, but this 'battered housewife' thang I got goin' on over here is a completely normal reaction! You can't blame me for having sensible reactions!"

I rolled my eyes. "The sensible reaction would be pack your bags and get the hell out of here. Why don't you do that?"

She sighed, and set the knife on a table. "You know what, you're right. I don't really want to admit it, but you are." She looked as if she were thinking for a moment. "_WHAT THE HELL?! I AM SO PATHETIC!_" she finally screamed, a confused look on her face.

I chuckled. "Well, it's good to see that you've finally come to your senses. Do you still love me?"

She shrugged. "You're awesome, that's all I know. And, where I come from, 'awesome' means sensational, classy, you get the picture…" She smiled and shook my hand. "And I just want you to know that it's all settled—I will do _anything_ to make sure you win Christine over."

I nodded, very pleased. A drastic change of heart in just a few minutes…I was almost afraid to ask if she were saying this just because she was going through some…female situations at this time. "Well, thanks," I said, opening the door and leading her into the room of my lair which Lizzy and Izzi called 'the stone beach'. What?! It's the only part that connects directly to the lake! Not my effing fault! Anywho, the room with the organ, end of story.

We began her lessons, and I told her to sing for somebody; give her whole soul to another when she sang. She nodded, sang a scale and looked at me expectantly. I shook my head. "That was fabulous for your age. I demand to know who you were singing for!"

She shook her head and sang again. "Tell me!" I begged.

"No," she persisted. "What should I sing now?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't care."

Her face lit up. "Okay then!

_Life is a mystery,_

_Everyone must stand alone,_

_I hear you call my name,_

_And it feels like—_"

I shook my head. "Stop, stop! What was that? That wasn't acceptable!"

She shook her finger. "In another ninety-seven years it will be!"

"What was that filth?!" I asked. What kind of music were people teaching their children in 2009? Whatever that was, it was stupid and a waste of voice!

"Madonna?" Izzi said, looking at me as if I should know that.

"What kind of things are they teaching you in the future?!" I asked her, shaking my head.

"Actually, in ninety-seven years, it'll be 1982…I'm from one hundred, twenty-four years in the future!" she explained cheerfully.

"How did you do the math so fast?" I blinked. "You've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"

"Calculating our age is key," she said a stalker-ish edge in her voice.

"Er…I though you didn't love me anymore," I said, glancing around.

She rolled her eyes. "I never said that. And anyway…" She blinked, trying to think of how to end that sentence. Finally she just gave up and said, "Bye!"

She walked to the Plume and got in, waving back at me. It started, and she went out of sight.

I looked at the keys on my organ for a minute, blinking a total of two times in six minutes. Suddenly, after seven minutes of silence, I yelled, "What the hell was that?!"


	12. The writer and the block

**A/N: Hi! Chapter 12! Woo! I dunno what to write in this here author's note…hmm…so I guess we'll start! *thinks* Okay, I have had some filler chapters, but this is gonna get us back into the plot. **_**Il Muto**_**, here we come! I finished the Leroux book, BTW. IT WAS VERY GOOD! I AM IN A RANDOM MOOD!!!**

Lizzy POV:

Madame Giry and I had become very good friends. Izzi and I even got a pay raise thanks to her. She had told the managers that we were the most dedicated of the maids. Sometimes, she even lent us some of her own money so we could buy more EYELINER. I didn't know if she was aware of Izzi's singing talent, but she did know that we hung out (whether he liked it or not) regularly with Erik.

Of course _I_ was aware of Izzi's talent. I'd have to be deaf and blind to see that she wasn't good. She thought I was oblivious, though, so I humored her by acting oblivious. Although, I don't know how she expected me to _not_ know…she bragged a lot. Not on purpose, but let's just say she liked to toot her own horn. Heh. Toot is a funny word.

Anywho…it was opening night for _Il Muto_. Madame told me all about the dispute with the threatening letters because SHE'S MY BFF! Izzi had been trying all week to snap a photo of Erik's in his boxers and wife beater. I asked her why, and she just stared at me blankly, and then walked away. She said that she had an insider who told her his boxers are PINK. I doubt it. I mean, Voldemort in pink boxers? I can see it. But Erik? No. Just no.

As I was saying (before Izzi went totally random), it was opening night and there was A LOT to do. Izzi and I were practically keeling over from exhaustion, and it didn't help that she sang 'The Song That Never Ends' in her sleep. Da da da da da dad a daaaa! Da da da da da da da daaaaa!

Anyway, we were washing the ballerinas' shoes when we heard a grumble behind us, and fancy shoes pacing. We turned around to see Erik pacing behind us, hands behind his back, looking at the ground. "Damn little uppity—thinks they can outsmarts me they does? Well, we'll be seeing about that NONSENSE."

"What's with you?" I asked. He turned to face me.

"Those dumdum managers didn't cast Christine as the Countess! Ergh…" he grumbled, starting to pace again.

Izzi and I exchanged a glance. "You're feeling very OOC today, aren't you?"

He looked at us, confused. "What? You two are crazy."

"Oookay, then its on-off OOC?"

"What is OCC?" Erik asked.

"It _OOC_, not OCC! OCC stands for Orange County Choppers…or Orange Coast College…" Izzi said, tapping her chin.

Erik and I looked at her. "What? It's true!"

"I'm outta here," Erik said with a growl, and suddenly HE WASN'T THERE ANYMORE.

Izzi and I shrugged and went back to cleaning the shoes.

^.^  My BFF George!

We were watching the performance from backstage, although this time Izzi wasn't taking notes. She actually looked quite bored. I asked her why. "Well, Carlotta's voice isn't interesting. It's just opera."

I shrugged and tapped my foot, wanting this to end. Erik had told us that he was gonna make them pay for not putting Christine in the main role and trashing Carlotta, and I just hoped that he wasn't planning to kill anyone. He said that Carlotta would "bring down the house" and "sing the chandelier down." Izzi laughed and told me he was planning on dropping the super SICKNASTYTASTIC **((OMG, THAT'S A WORD!)) **chandelier on everyone.

Well, he can just do what he has to. I want a cookie.

O_O_O_O_O

It was Act 2, the act where Christine reveals she's really a guy and where Erik is supposedly gonna drop the chandelier all over people. It started out with the ballet girls springing across the floor, some random people singing about how Carlotta was making out with Christine, then Piangi came in, singing like the goon he is.

Carlotta started singing about how Christine was a guy and Christine agreed, promptly ripping off her clothes…not like that, though. Everyone gasped—as if they didn't know that was coming—and Carlotta started singing, rubbing it in Piangi's character's face. "_Poor fool, he makes me laugh! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha—BRAAP_!"

My eyes widened, but Izzi was rolling all over the place, laughing. "Oh, Jesus! Air! Air!" she was gasping.

I stood there, feeling really bad for Carlotta. She attempted to begin again. "_…he makes me…laugh…ha ha ha ha ha…ha ha ha_—BRAAP!"

There was a chuckling above us, and we heard a booming voice sound: "Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept for me?"

The whole theater looked around for the source of the voice, but they could see no one. Izzi and looked up, and, although the audience saw no one, we saw Erik looking very pissed off, his voice projecting all over the House.

I found it kind of funny that they couldn't see him; he was even sort of out in the open. Right after he finished talking, Carlotta got an angry look on her face and began to sing again. "…_fool, he makes me laugh! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha—HAAAAAAAAARP!"_ Her last note sounded like a dying hyena…

Izzi gasped as her note kept going, and there was a boom. She pulled me aside, out of the way of shattering glass and the chandelier crashed near the door. The whole theater erupted with screams, and everyone was running to get out.

Someone else dragged us into a corner as Raoul and Christine rushed by. I looked up. It was Erik. "Come on," he muttered, ushering us to a stairway.

"_Why have you brought us here?_" Raoul demanded, bursting into song.

"We can't go back there!" Christine replied, rushing up another sair.

"_We must return!" _ Raoul insisted.

"He'll kill you! _His eyes will find us there…those eyes that burn!_" At this point, they both burst into song.

"_And in the labyrinth, where night is blind, The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind!"_

Erik growled and pushed us forward, making us follow them with him. As we did, they continued: "_My God, who is this man?"_ Christine sang. _"Who hunts to kill? I can't escape from him, I never will!"_

Erik pulled us down a different passage, so we didn't hear the rest until we popped up on top of a statue. Izzi opened her mouth to scream (she's deathly afraid of heights), but Erik clapped a hand over her mouth.

"_Raoul, I've been there…_

_To his world of unending night,_

_To a world where the daylight dissolves into _

_Darkness, darkness…_

_Raoul, I've seen him…_

_Can I ever forget that sight?_

_Can I ever escape from that face,_

_So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face_

_In that darkness…darkness…"_

Erik scoffed. "It's a _face_," he muttered.

"_But—"_

Erik perked up.

"_His voice filled my spirit with a_

_Strange, sweet sound,_

_In that night, there was music in my mind…_

_And through music, my soul began to_

_Soar!_

_And I heard…_

_As I'd never heard before…"_

Raoul rolled his eyes. "What you heard was dream, and nothing more!"

Christine looked up at the statue, dangerously close to seeing us.

"_Yet in his eyes…_

_All the sadness of the world…_

_Those pleading eyes that both threaten_

_And adore…"_

Erik smiled, and Izzi glared at Christine, trying to possibly jump off of the statue and kill her. I could understand Izzi's plight. I mean, she knew that Christine hand Erik's heart in her evil, lilywhite hands, and she was about to throw it on the ground and jump on it. I felt bad for him too.

Raoul burst into song again, and this time Erik was not happy. He scowled and growled low. Christine looked absolutely fascinated with what Raoul was singing, but we couldn't hear him. Erik covered our mouths and jumped down, landing behind the statue, closer to them. He was singing 'All I Ask of You.'

Izzi, Erik, and I groaned collectively. They didn't notice, they just kept singing.

It was odd: you could pinpoint the exact second that Erik's heart broke when Christine started to sing. Izzi nuzzled her head into his chest and frowned, as did I, but without the nuzzling.

Erik peeked over his shoulder and past the statue, only to pull away with the saddest expression I'd ever seen on someone. "She kissed him. On the lips," he whispered, barely audible.

Izzi sighed and Christine began to sing again, this time telling him to get his horses so they could go out. Erik growled.

They ran through the door, down the steps, and Erik emerged from behind the statue, leaving us behind. His steps were shaky as he walked to look over the edge of the roof. He stood like that for a long time, and then sang,

"_I gave you my music . . .  
made your song take wing . . .  
and now, how you've  
repaid me:  
denied me  
and betrayed me . . .  
He was bound to love you  
when he heard you sing . . ._

Christine ...  
Christine ..."

Izzi and I braced ourselves, knowing what was coming next. He began cursing both Christine and Raoul. "_You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!" _He held the last note and vanished, leaving us on the rooftop.

"Hey!" Izzi cried angrily, flinging the door to the roof open and running down the stairs, me behind her. She ran down the several staircases and came across Christine and Raoul talking, Christine looking very worried. In the background you could see people trying to pick up the chandelier.

Izzi sighed and dragged me out, down the corridors, into our dorm where she explained the whole book, musical, and feature film in detail. "It's all coming together! In the movie, he hide _behind_ the statue, in the musical the chandelier comes down while _Christine_ is singing, and in the book, Christine disappears after the chandelier crash, and is with Erik for two weeks…everything ix mixed, the timeline is frigged up…Lizzy, we're affecting it!"

I sighed and shook my head. "Just like Hogwarts."

Izzi nodded vigorously. "_Just like Hogwarts!_"

**THERE! GOODBYE WRITER'S BLOCK! The Hogwarts thing is a tribute to my HP fanfic that LIZZY REMOVED! Heh heh..**


	13. These bad boys right HER!

**A/N: I had me a questshuns last chapter. First one was from Fop Huntress (BTW, HI!): Didn't Erik's demand about box five come BEFORE Carlotta's croaking? i saw the movie today ritually and I'm sure that is what happened. **

**Meh answer: Well, I have to alternate the POV's, so we didn't see the part about all the crazy lettehs and whatnot. Also, I'd like to point out that I like the musical, book (Leroux), and musical—I mean **_**movie**_**—so it's all a complicated jumble of effed-up timelines…so to explain the fact that you didn't see him demand box five, he **_**did**_**, but the POV was off somewhere else. Then, for the timeline, in the book the chandelier crashes while Carlotta's singing. I'm kind of confused too O_O**

**Should I have Christine disappear for two weeks? VOTE NOW!**

Izzi's POV

I growled as _another_ person stepped over the rug I'd just cleaned. I went back and cleaned it up again, thinking about Erik. I could tell that he was really angry with Christine, but of course he still loved her. That made me sort of angry, that he's still trying to please the woman who's broken his heart once already. I had a feeling something was up, though, and I was right, although I didn't know yet.

I decided that the rug was clean enough and decided to go down to Erik's lair to see what was up. Walking to my dorm, I didn't see Lizzy anywhere, and then I remembered she was probably out with Meg or something. I sighed and opened the door, looking around. No one. I put my cleaning stuff back and turned around, opening the trapdoor by saying the password. The password was 'I HEART Christine'…a few weeks ago it was 'E+C=LOVE!'

A went down the corridors, avoiding the trapdoors, and reaching the edge of the lake. I climbed in the Phlume and rode it to the gate. I gasped. The gate was closed and locked. "ERIK!" I called "ERIK!" He didn't answer. I scowled and switched to the returning track, going back. The Phlume wasn't even cool anymore; I just liked how it ticked Erik off.

I got out of the Phlume and sat on the edge of it, dangling my legs over the stone edge. Sighing, I reread the book over in my head, trying to figure out where they were. I jumped up. "OH MY GOD!" I screeched, running down the corridors and accidently going through the wrong door, walking in on a ballet girl and a scene-shifter…well…

I shivered and darted out, barely keeping from throwing up. I went through the RIGHT door and found myself in Christine's dressing room. I came out and looked around. "Christine? Christine?!" I called, looking both in the outer room and inner room. She was nowhere to be found.

I started to scream random curses. "ERIK! YOU DAMN LITTLE _PUP_!"I cried, using my favorite line from _The Shining Miniseries_. "AARGH! I HATE YOU, YOU UGLY PIECE OF CHEESECAKE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I stormed out before someone came in, and continued my screeches as I stomped down the corridors.

How could he go with Christine and just leave me here?! That dumdum! AH, THAT ASS! _He'll be gone for two weeks now!_ I thought angrily. I can't believe this…I would have to follow him! Now, where did he go…? Was it her home town? I couldn't remember. I racked my brain, but came up with nothing.

I ran to my dorm to find Lizzy there. "Hey," she said.

I waved her greeting away like a moth and said, "Where's Erik? He took Christine for two weeks and I can't remember for the life of me where they went!"

"Uh, Izzi…they're in the lair…remember? And they go out at some point," Lizzy said.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, that sounds right…"

"Wow, are you becoming, like, un-obsessed?" Lizzy asked, raising an eyebrow. I stared at her like she was crazy.

"NOOOOO!" I yelled, collapsing on the floor.

Lizzy shook her head and went back to reading her book. "Hey, did you know the plural of man is mens? It's true."

I stared at her. "WHY DOES THAT MATTER?! I'M BECOMING _UN-OBSESSED_!"

"You just said you weren't!"

"…Oh yeah."

---O_O_O_O_O_O_O----

Lizzy was walking calmly behind me as I stomped up to Erik's door violently. "ERIK! I KNOWZ YOU BEH IN DERE!"

There was a quiet sigh, and Erik opened the door, his mask on a little crooked, as if he'd just threw it on. "What do you want, freaks?"

"YOU!" I accidentally screamed. I slowly moved my hand to my mouth. "As in…cows…"

Erik nodded slowly. "I have…never heard _that _one before…"

Lizzy shook her head. "Erik, you're a—"

"Lizzy! That's MY line!" I interrupted.

"How did you know what I as gonna say?"

"Because I was just about to say the same thing!...I'll say it later, expect it when you least expect it," I said, pushing Erik through the doorway and barging in. Christine was somewhere humming. She sounded kind of scared.

"How did you idiots get in here?" Erik asked sullenly.

I pulled a pair of jumbo wire cutters out of seemingly nowhere. "These bad boys right HER!" I had been obsessed with saying 'HER' instead of 'here' lately.

He grimaced. "You _suck_!"

"Shut up, Erik, you _fucknut_." I jumped up and down. "I SAID IT! WOO! Anyway—" I ceased immediately. "What's Miss Christine doing here, hm, Erika, my dear?"

He frowned. "Shut up…"

"I thought she loved Raoulkins!" Lizzy said. "And all his fopness!"

"No!" Erik insisted. "She said she was just playing make-believe, to amuse him! He's going to Antarctica in a month, you know. She said that they said they'd be engaged for that month, until he went away, and I said okay! Okay?"

I nodded. "Wow, CHOOSE! BOOK, MUSICAL, OR FREAKIN' MOOOOOOOOOOOOOVIE!" I screamed. Christine's humming stopped with a cry of confusion.

She came out. "Oh, it's you," she said, looking mainly at me.

I nodded. "Shoo, shoo, Christine, my little puppy," I said, attempting to make my glare bore through her skull and end her for good. She blinked, looking down, not exploding. Bluh.

Erik chuckled nervously and ushered her into the next room, muttering something in her ear. She nodded and disappeared into the room. I looked from the empty doorway, to the flustered Erik. "You're really…MEAN!" he growled.

"Not as mean as _that_ thing," I said, gesturing to where Christine had been. He glared at me.

"Well, it's TRUE," Lizzy backed me up, rolling her eyes.

"Even so, you don't have to _say_ it, and she is the most beautiful thing on this Earth, you harpies…" he muttered.

"Oh, so now I'm a harpy?" I asked.

"Harpies are actually not that bad looking!" Lizzy said, nodding.

"Are you _kidding_?" Erik asked, looking a bit freaked out.

She shrugged. "I'm just trying to make you feel less self confidence."

He stared at her for a moment. "Uh, I think I am the lowest scum of the Earth," he said flatly.

I was getting pretty annoyed. "OH PUH-LEEEASE! DON'T GO PULLING AN _EDWARD CULLEN_ ON US! DEATH TO STEPHENIE MEYER! DEATH TO ALL WHO OPPOSE US! COOL SHIRTS TO THOSE WHO AGREE WITH US! COOKIES TO THOSE WHO DON'T GIVE A—"

Lizzy placed a hand on my shoulder. "We use our _inside_ voices, Izzi."

I pouted and crossed my arms. Erik stared at us for a moment. "Freaky."

"YOUR MOM!"

"No, yours," he retorted.

"You fucknut…" I muttered, using my new favorite word. "I have no idea what to write."

They both looked at me. "What?"

"Nothing," I said with a grin. Suddenly Erik started making out with me.

After awhile he screamed and stumbled back. "_WHY_ DID I JUST DO THAT?!"

I looked at him innocently, eyebrows raised. "Why did you _not_ do it, before?"

"Because I'm a gentleman and I'm also not a freak like you," he replied.

"What the hell? Yes you are," Lizzy said, a confused look on her face.

He sighed. "Just go away."

---Later---

And that we did. For the rest of the day I hummed Blackmore's Night, my favorite band right now. "_And she danced in the wood, like a gypsy girl should and she—_"

"IZZI! SHUT THE CHEESE UP!" Lizzy screamed.

"What?"

"You know how I feel about Renaissance Rock!"

"No, I don't."

"Oh…carry on, then."

"What _are_ your feelings?"

"I dunno, I just randomly said that." She shrugged.

"Okay…" I began humming again.

"So," Lizzy began. "I was wondering, where did you get those jumbo scissor things?"

"They be WIRE CUTTERS, Lizzeh. And I dunno, they…were there?" I shrugged.

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed," she said, blowing out the candle, leaving me in darkness.

"Fucknut," I muttered, crawling into bed and sleeping. Yes, I dreamed of Erik…DUH! I dreamed that Erik was a guy name Ben Burwell and we had tea. And then I died. The end.


	14. The greatest chapter in ever, bitches

**A/N: *rubs hand together* This is gonna be goooood! Okay, Raoul, strap down your mullet, we're goin' in!**

Erik's POV

I tapped my foot on the stone floor of my lair as Christine got ready. "Hurry up," I mumbled.

"I'll be right out," she mumbled back.

Things had been so confusing, so chaotic, since Izzi and Lizzy showed up. I tried to figure out why multiple times, but ended up with 'monkey.' I don't know how I got 'monkey' in a math problem. I tried not to think about it. Every time I did, my brain went into an uncontrolled morph, causing me to drool and say the word 'corona' over and over.

"WATERMELON MAN!" I heard someone scream, probably a man. You just _had_ to blame…_them_…when you heard these types of things being screamed.

"Christine, I'll be right back," I said and, not waiting for an answer, I walked out.

At this point, the same voice was yelling something about a rubber dog mask, a xylophone, and cufflinks. A different voice, a female voice, was screaming something about a guy name Steven Weber. After that, a different female voice said, "That guy from _Wings_?"

Well. This was…

I got into the Phlume, riding to the stairs and running up them, trying to find a passageway that led to the voices. After searching, I heard someone screaming things very close to my right side, so I ventured that way and looked through a hold in the wall.

The hole led to a hallway in which Raoul was running around in a panic, Izzi and Lizzy egging him on by screaming random things at him, thus making him random.

"Oh, WUZZA MALOO! I winged it! I told her I love-ed her, and she ran 'waaaaaay!" Raoul cried, tears streaming down his face. I blinked. Wow…

"VAVOO! ANGELINA JOLIE! FUZZWAD! KETCHUP!" Izzi screeched.

"JIM GAFFIGAN!" Lizzy screamed.

"Ooh, it's Mr. Umbrella," Izzi muttered.

"That's someone's wallet."

"BATONS PASSED AROUND THE WORLD!" Raoul screamed. "And Christine hates me!!!"

"Oh," Izzi said, nodding. "Gay porn."

Lizzy and her exchanged glances and laughed. "Will I have to contact 'To Catch a Predator'?"

Izzi rolled her eyes. "I'm not a creepy old man, and I've never seen gay porn." They looked at Raoul, seemingly expecting him to say something about his being gay. He didn't, just kept screaming and crying.

"What a baby!"

Raoul started singing something softly, like a woman. "Deedle dumm…" he hummed. I sighed, deciding that I would have to step in sooner or later.

Izzi looked totally bored. "I'm, like, totally bored," she said. "You know, this chapter is SO random…"

"Chapter?" Lizzy asked, raising an eyebrow. Raoul sighed.

"Izzi, you aren't supposed to break the fourth wall, remember?" he said. I stepped out from the wall.

"Yeah, seriously. It's annoying. Oh, and that thing you're going to do during Don Juan Triumphant—" I shook my head disapprovingly "—That's just mean."

She glared at me. "You aren't supposed to know about that. NOW who's breaking the fourth wall, huh?! Jesus Christ."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you were doing it, weren't you?"

"Go back in your hole, Erik," Lizzy suggested, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a puff. We all stared at her.

"Lizzy, you don't smoke," Izzi said, confused.

Lizzy threw the cigarette and looked at the ground, ashamed. "You're right, I'm a sham."

"Oookay," I said. "Let's get back to the chapter."

Izzi sighed. "But I don't know what to write! I'm really stuck! Like worse than in that one chapter…"

"Well…" Raoul said. "We could have a tea party or something."

Izzi lit up. "I have a better idea!" All of a sudden, we were all on the set of _The Jerry Springer Show_. There were six chairs, and Izzi, Lizzy, Raoul, Christine (who had randomly shown up), and I sat in them. I could only wonder what the empty chair was for…

Jerry walked out. "Hello! Hello and welcome to the _Jerry Springer Show_!" he was yelling over the crowd. I was so confused… "Hello and welcome!" he said again, once the crowd's cheers had died down. "Today we have some very special guest. The main characters from _The Phantom of the Opera_, and two random phangirls dressed like maids from 1885!"

The crowd went wild, and he continued: "Their biggest phan, Izzi, has rallied them here for a special show tonight!" Suddenly, a giant logo that said '_Lovelorn Characters Duke it out!'_ fell behind us, and presumably on the screen of the viewers at home.

Izzi was clapping wildly, while Raoul and Christine looked a bit frightened. Lizzy was smoking. Jerry walked in front of us. "So join me today as these jealous lovers do battle!" The crowd went wild, and some guy screamed for a commercial break.

"So all of this was real all along," I muttered to myself. "Huh. Wow."

Izzi and Lizzy were talking about random episodes of JS, including one where a guy threw up on his girlfriend. On purpose. While they were doing it. WTF?!

The commercial break ceased, and we came back. "Now, first I want to introduce these characters if you're not familiar with them. First, we have the lovely Christine Daae!" The crowd cheered, and some guys whistled. Douche bags.

Jerry gave the microphone to Christine. "Tell us about your position, dear," he said, accentuating '_position_.'

Christine put on her cutest puppy-dog face and said, "Well, Jerry, ever since I was a little girl, I've had a deep relationship with both of these men."

"What about the two girls?"

Christine looked at them. "…I don't even know their names."

"ISABELLA AND ELIZABETH—" Izzi's rampage was cut off by Jerry.

"Izzi, keep that for later. You'll need that," he said, nodding knowingly.

Izzi sat down. "You're right."

"Anyway…" Christine said. "And now I'm torn between the two…I just don't know where to turn and who to turn to! I'm so confused!"

Jerry took back the microphone and patted her back comfortingly. "It's alright, Christine, everything shall be resolved! Now let's introduce the others really quick before our next commercial break. You've already met Christine—" The crowd went wild again. "Her boyfriend Raoul—" The women in the crowd screamed like fangirls. "And here's Izzi, the crazy one—" The whole crowd, especially the biker gang in the third row, cheered. "Lizzy, the smarter, less crazy one—" Everyone cheered. "And TPOTO himself, Erik!" The whole crowd was dead quiet. No fair! Suddenly, an ear-piercing phangirl scream came from the last row.

I looked up, confused. A small girl in giant braces stood up and tumbled down from the stage. "ERIK!" she screamed, running for me. I fell backwards in my chair out of fright, and she jumped on top of me.

There was another scream, one of rage, and I knew it was Izzi. She grabbed the girl by her hair and had her way with her, ending up dragging her backstage, leaving a trail of blood.

Jerry was pale, his eyes wide. "N-nothing like that has ever happened…" The security guards hadn't done anything. "Bill, what just happened?"

A big, white guy shrugged. "A phangirl attacked another phangirl."

"Well, I know that, but…what the hell…"

He shrugged again. "They're kids. They're just playing."

"The one with braces is bleeding in seven different places…"

"That's her parent's problem, okay?! NOT MINE! GOD, JERRY, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Bill cried with his head in his hands. He ran back stage, crying uncontrollably.

Jerry brushed this off as if it was normal, and cut to a commercial break. As the break was happening, Izzi came back, dragging a large, blood-stained battle axe behind her. Everyone looked at her wide-eyed.

We came back from the break, and Jerry greeted the viewers, a little pale, but not stuttering. "We're back with our special on _The Phantom of the Opera_!" he cried, and the crowd cheered again. Christine was clapping stupidly, I'm sorry to say…

"Next we're going to hear from Viscount Raoul de Chagny—"

"IT'S VICOMTE!" someone screeched.

Jerry put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Look, I'm not all too sure about this stuff, but Izzi looked it up on the interwebz and it's VISCOUNT!"

"Well, then what's a Vicomte?"

"What am I?!" Raoul hollered, head in his hands. "I'm so confused!"

"Vicomte isn't even a word," Jerry said.

"It's true, it's not showing up on spell check," Izzi clarified.

"Will everyone shut up about Raoul's title?! He's not that important!" I yelled, glaring daggers at everyone in the room. They shut up immediately.

"Anyway…" Jerry said. "Now we talk to Raoul." He handed the mic to Raoul. "Now, tell us about your place in this matter."

"Well," Raoul said, but shook his head. "Izzi, stop listening to fuckin' Meatloaf!"

"What?! _Anything for Love_ is a GOOD song!" Izzi protested.

"But it's distracting you from writing, so stop."

"No."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway…Christine is _my_ girlfriend. We've known each other since we were children, and I've thought she was a beast ever since."

Jerry nodded. "Go on." I, myself, was practically fuming.

"And then this _Erik_, or so he calls himself, comes and steals her!" he cried, and I lost it. I basically flew across the room and began to strangle him.

"You…bastard…stay…away…from…her!" I yelled between bashes of his head on the floor. Christine was screaming and clawing at my arm, trying to make me stop. Izzi was singing Meatloaf, useless, as always.

The security guards finally pulled me away and threw me into my chair. I grumbled and reluctantly stopped, rolling my eyes like a teenager. They kind of just ignored Raoul on the floor. He was unconscious anyway…

"So, I guess we're talking to Izzi next," Jerry said. "She's a phangirl who would kill—and, actually, just did—for Erik. So let's see her opinion."

He handed her the mic and I braced myself for a rant. "HI EVERYONE!" she screeched. The biker gang went wild again, flinging their bandannas in the air and whatnot. "So, here's my opinion, and I assure you, my opinion is very solid, very nonsensical, and VERY unchangeable!" I rolled my eyes. "I think Erik is G." I slapped my forehead.

"A G?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded.

"Yes, Jerry, my good man, A G, as in Gangsta. Which basically means Erik is a sexy-awesome-cooler-than-Raoul-leather-glove-wearing-beast-thing-dude-dramatically-deformed-SEX MEISTER!" I shifted in my seat, now very scared.

"Sex meister?" Jerry asked.

Lizzy shook her head, taking a drag on her cigarette. "You better not ask."

Jerry nodded. "Okay, then." He practically ripped the microphone from Izzi and handed it to Lizzy. "What about you?"

Lizzy snuffed out her cigarette, taking the mic. She sighed dramatically. "Well, you see, Jerry, Izzi is my BFF. We've known each other since kindergarten, and, though we may not have been friends the whole time, we haven't had screaming fights. I don't think we've ever had a fight, actually…"

Izzi nodded. "Well, there was that one time in third grade when Taylor and I started that band, _The Weirdoes, _and then your friends copied us!!!"

Lizzy glared at her. "Calm down."

Izzi looked at the floor. "Right. Sorry."

"Yeah. Anyway, whatever Izzi wants is fine by me. She sort of dragged me here; I hardly know anything about _Phantom_."

"It's true; I think I may be turning Taylor, though. Not into a phan, but an Erik-obsessed person. Erik is the new Brad, did you know that?" Izzi said.

Lizzy gasped. "HE REPLACED BRAD?!"

"Who's Brad?" Jerry asked.

"He's a male _My Scene_ doll. Taylor and I dressed him in a pink flower shirt and neon-blue overalls, put guy-liner on him, and named him Brad. He's a pro with the ladies…he knows how to yodel," Izzi explained.

Jerry looked slightly scared, and Lizzy continued: "So, anyway, Izzi is in love with Erik, and that's all cool with me. We'll stop at nothing to get him." Izzi nodded approvingly. Sigh. Those are my phans, alright.

Jerry nodded with a satisfied smile on his face. "Well, then I guess we'll move on to the man of the hour, Erik himself!" No one cheered as Jerry approached me, but Izzi glared pointedly at every single member of the crowd, touching the handle of her battle axe, and they went wild. Yup. She's a phan alright.

Jerry gave me the mic and I was about to express my feelings in fairly strong words when Christine said, "Izzi, now you're listening to Green Day! Make up your mind."

"Hey, these guys are pretty good. I bought this CD for Taylor for her birthday, and now _I_ want it!" Izzi exclaimed.

Everyone just stared at her. "Oookaaay…" I said slowly. "Anyway…here's my policy: gimme Christine, lemme kill Raoul." I nodded firmly.

Jerry nodded and then said, "Any plans for that?"

"Well, n—yes! I have a very diabolical plan!" I cried.

"Okay…" Jerry took the mic again. "Well…I was hoping there would be more action this segment…but we still need to resolve this!"

"No," Izzi said. "The Phantom of the Opera is an irresolvable problem. In the '29 version, he drowned, in the '04 version, he smashed some mirrors and walked away…it's just…"

"_Jätä pelko taaksesi tänään! Ukkonen, tärisyttää tannerta, mä pakenen! Turha kultani pelätä on, pelätä ikävää! Turha sellaista pelätä on, pelätä elämää_!" Lizzy burst out in song, suddenly sounding like the lead singer of _Maj Karma_. A band suddenly appeared and the crowd started going crazy, the dip between the stage and the seats becoming a mosh pit.

I covered my ears as the security guys began to punch out the band members, restraining Lizzy and shoving her into her seat. They pushed the drum set off the stage and began to clean up. Jerry attempted to continue with the show. "Um…okay…so…now I guess we'll bring out our special guest…Erik, I understand you have some competition over the girls' fanage."

I was appalled. "What?!"

"That's right. And we have him here today. Let's bring him out!" I tall, thin man stepped onto the stage. He was wearing a black trench coat and girly black boots, paired with an Abe Lincoln hat. He was scowling and looked like he was a cartoon charater.

"JAVERT?!" I screeched. "I'M LOSING MY FANS TO AN ANIME, FRENCH INSPECTOR?!"

Javert snickered and sat down. "Oh, no you ain't!" I cried, whipping out a bazooka and shooting him into oblivion.

"JAVERT!" Lizzy and Izzi cried. "You killed him!"

"It was going to happen anyway, don't wet yourselves," I muttered, putting away my smoking bazooka.

Jerry blinked, and then grinned. "Well, it's a good thing I have a backup! Please welcome the backup surprise guest, Freakazoid!"

A guy in a bright red body suit with "_F!_" on the chest, paired with white boots and a freaky hairdo. "FREAK!" Izzi cried, jumping up. Lizzy looked blank, she obviously didn't know who it was.

"Izzi!"

"Freak!"

"Izzi!"

"Freak!"

"Izzi!"

"Freak!"

"Shut. UP!!!" I screamed. "Now who is that and why is he here?"

"That's Freakazoid, and he's here because he feels like it," Izzi replied. "Now shut the hell up, thanks."

Erik blinked. "You just told me to shut up."

"…Sweet angry Jezus, I did, didn't I?"

Jerry shook his head. "Well…this was…odd. But our time is up. I'm mentally and emotionally disturbed in multiple ways. Yeah…so…this was The Jerry Springer Show…and…I'm going to go dunk my head in the toilet now…"

And we were gone.


	15. MASQUERADE! PAPER FACES ON Owwww!

**Friday is officially fanfic day!**

**On with the chapter!**

Lizzy's POV:

Six months had passed since we all woke up on the ceiling. I didn't know what happened and Erik scurried into his hole pretty hastily, but Izzi seemed as if she knew. The ceiling was quite sticky…so we washed it, but we left Raoul up there. He finally crawled his way down when he started to get hungry.

Erik had mostly disappeared, though Izzi had lessons with his semi-occasionally—is that a phrase? Meh, probably not.

Izzi was excited for the masquerade, and…I guess I was too. BAL MASQUE, BABEH!...*cough* O_O yeah. We hadn't decided what we were going to wear…and so, our story begins…

I woke up that morning with a sneaking suspicion that Izzi was, at the moment, doing something idiotic. "Izzi…" I said reproachfully.

"Yase?"

"What're you doing?"

"Your mom."

I sighed and said flatly, "I'm serious."

She sighed. "Then come in." The reason she said that was because she was behind a curtain that she had attached to the wall herself. She didn't do a very good job, but I couldn't see what she was doing. I pulled back the curtain and stepped into the mini-room.

Izzi was sitting at an old-fashioned sewing machine, fabrics of multiple colors and patterns strewn throughout the area. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm making our dresses! Look here, I wrote down a few things for yours, so just tell me what you want. I'm working on mine right now."

"But, Izzi—"

"What?!"

"Can we even go to the masquerade? We should be cleaning for it!"

"Look, I told you, they won't miss us for a few days. It's in a week, anyway." She shrugged.

"But Andre is still running around screaming, and last night his hair caught fire! He needs us!" I cried.

Izzi looked up at me with a glare. "Are you, like, in love with him or something? For Christ's sake."

"Izzi, why do you say that?! You're not even Christian! It makes no sense!"

"Well, my parents should have started me on a different swear when they had the chance! But noooooo!"

"I give up. Do whatever the hell you want. Just leave me out of it."

"Okay!" She quickly went back to work.

I walked out of the curtain room and sat on my bed for a moment. I sat there for a long time, and then cried, "Alright, let me in!" I tore back the curtain and began to sift through her papers.

"Wow, Izzi, these are pretty…ambitious. How the heck are we supposed to get all these fabrics and top hats?"

"We just will. Promise."

"Well, Izzi…you really need to make sure no one will know who we are! If we were there, we would get fired."

"Trust me, I have a fool-proof plan!" Izzi promised.

"Izzi…that's what you said when we crashed my aunt's wedding…she had red paint stuck in her hair for weeks."

Izzi frowned. "That was one of my less intellectual plans."

"Are ANY of your plans typically intellectual?"

She glared at me and went back to sewing. "You know," she said absentmindedly; "this is quite trying, keeping a job and being us. Maybe we should have gone to Les Mis…"

"Les Miserables isn't a place, Izzi, and you decided that this would be better. Besides, we actually got jobs here. That would be rather impossible during the Paris Uprising."

"Shut up, Lizzy," Izzi grumbled.

"Fine!" I stormed out of the alcove and started to read again.

"Hey, Lizzy?" Izzi asked slowly about ten minutes later.

"What?" I asked sharply.

"Help…" I sighed and got up, pulling back the curtain. A drapery was stapled to Izzi's arm, and she was bleeding.

"You dufus," I said, going to help her.

"As I was going over the far-famed Karrey Mountains…" she began to sing.

"NO!"

She whimpered and stopped. "You shush," she retorted weakly.

And so this is how the next week went. Izzi kept working on our dresses and not even Meg saw them. We worked diligently and without interruptions all day, and sewed all night. It was like working two jobs. The Bal Masque or whatever the hell it's called--Masquerade Ball. Yeah, let's go with that—was in only a few days.

The day of the thing was a Thursday, and Izzi and I were worked to death all week, and were tired, but we couldn't wait for the ball.

"Lizzy!" she cried shrilly one morning.

"Whag?"

"What?!"

"What, what?"

"You just said 'whag'!"

"You miss-typed."

"I see…" She looked around. "Anyway, tomorrow is the Masquerthingy."

"Oh, yeahhh! I remember now. So, we're working today?" I asked.

"Yup," she replied with a grin. "All day."

"You do realize that we're going to be excruciatingly tired after the Masquerthingy, don't you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure. But who cares?!"

"Um, I do! We're going to have to do so many chores afterwards…" Once I'd said this, we were whisked off to clean the main hall. And when I say clean, I mean scour from top to bottom.

"LIZZY!" Izzi squealed two days later, peeking out of her little alcove.

"What?" I asked, looking at her.

"I'm ready! Wanna see? Oh, and come get your dress on."

"We're supposed to be down there as maids…"

"We're supposed to be 'sick in bed.' Get with the program, Lizzard."

I groaned and tore back the curtain. Izzi was dressed in a purple top, the chest of it a gauzy purple-blue fabric and the bodice was deep purple with violet highlights. There was a silver crescent moon in the center of her top with strings of pearls draping from it. A shawl the same color as the chest with star designs went across her hoopskirt. A plume of purple gauze came from the back of the bodice. The skirt of the dress was a hoopskirt, blue with a purple tint and silver designs that matched those on the bodice. Her boots here purple, and she was wearing a top hat with a multi-colored disco ball design. Her mask was purple and covered in peacock feathers. She also wore deep blue velvet gloves with a peacock feather on each of the fingers. **((http ://www .polyvore .com/izzis_ other_one /set? id= 12049468))**

"You like?!" she asked.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus, it's great! And mine?"

"It's in there. Go change!" She pushed me toward the alcove and I went in to get dressed.

My dress was…interesting. The bottom half was a _gigantic_ hoopskirt; bright orange with a frilly yellow fringe. On top of it was a brown and gold see-through skirt type thing. The top was a bright red corset with black lace and the rich orange sleeves poofed up around the red velvet gloves. On my feet were small red boots and on my face an orange, feathery mask. Like Izzi, I wore a top hat, but mine was leather and red. I did not ask her where she got all these supplies. I didn't want to know. **((http:// . com/izzis_masquerade_costume/ set?id=12049308))**

"You look great! Now, we're all set, so I propose we go, what say _you_?" Izzi was babbling again.

"Are you sure no one will recognize us?" I returned.

"In these extravagant things? No fugging way." She took my hand a pulled me out. "I hid the…equipment…down stairs. This is going to be so bitching awesome." I didn't have the time to ask her how she made up these completely random swear words.

We made our way down the stairs behind the stage, the ones that the performers used. Peeking into the main hall, it was frighteningly evident that people were staring at us. We weren't in the color scheme, Izzi realized much too late.

We crossed the hall and looked around. Our boots elevated us so that we had a whole different height. Maybe I was wrong; maybe we wouldn't be seen after all?

"This is really snazzy," Izzi said. "And to think I used to complain about wanting to see Phantom on-stage—now I'm _living_ it!"

"Yeah, really great," I muttered. I had wanted to go the England and live V for Vendetta--meet V--but noooo, we just HAD to meet Erik!

Izzi didn't recognize my sarcasm—she's never really had an ear for it. "Oh my gods, I wonder if they'll burst into song!"

_No…No!_ I thought, _Do NOT burst into song…!_

They did.

"_MAQUERADE! PAPER FACES ON PARADE! MASQUERADE!"_ The whole room began to sing dramatically.

"DAMMIT!"

Izzi joined right in on the fun, until I tugged her hair and reminded her of what we had to do. "Right," she said quietly, pushing passed the people in formation on the main staircase. There were some random guys painted gold. _Oh for baby Jesus's sake, why, why?!_ I thought. I had a headache.

She headed our procession to the top of the stairs, around the corner, and into the shadows. "Erik should be here _any_ minute," she said. And then, with graceful movements that only happen if one is about to get married or is married but died and is still in their wedding dress and is, like, dancing on snow or something, Christine and Raoul pranced by us, talking quietly.

"Raoul, you understand…we must keep this a secret."

"I thought we were just…" He gulped. "Acting…?"

"I know we're just playing make believe, but…Erik would get angry, wouldn't he?" Christine looked worried, and Izzi glared at her.

"Yes," Raoul agreed, and they went down the stairs, joining the crowd in singing and dancing.

"Yeah, right, acting," Izzi mumbled. "Meanies."

And then we saw him. Erik. He looked ridiculous; it was hard to keep from bursting out laughing…well, when you knew who he was…

Wearing a lavish red costume, he strutted down the hall. His whole head was a skull, and his cape had the words, "_Do Not Touch Red Death_" sewn on. "Psh," Izzi said, "ego, much?"

"Erik," we hissed at the same time.

O_O

Christine took Raoul's hand and they glided across the floor of the main hall that was, oddly enough, serving as a ballroom. Everywhere she looked, though, she saw Erik. In every mask there was something familiar, and it frightened her. Also, the fact that people around them were singing like crazed pop stars was a bit frightening too. Christine had noticed two people before who didn't fit into the color scheme at all, so she suddenly felt very safe knowing that she wasn't the only one. Whew.

Just as the singing people were reaching the finale of their screeching party, the mood changed. The lights flickered and then went out, replaced by a sickly red glow. Both Christine and Raoul watched Red Death descend the stairs with looks of utter horror. Even more so because he was SINGING. More singing, I ask you, why…why?

Everyone else looked scared as well, and that was a little bit of comfort. Red Death threw his new opera to Andre and declared, "DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!" The music got dramatic!

Just as Red Death was breaking the creepy factor, there came high-pitched squealing from the hall behind the stairs. Two teenage girls hopped the banister separating the hall from the lower landing of the staircase, two giant contraptions in their hands. One of them, a girl in blue, was laughing theatrically and the other one looked both unsure and excited.

"HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the one in blue screamed, and then looked pointedly at Raoul. "And Raoul."

"HELLO CONFUSED PARISIANS!" the other one, a girl in orange, cried.

"Are ya'll read to ROCK?!" The crowd merely stared back at them. "I said—ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!" They remained silent.

The girls pushed something on the contraptions they were holding in synchronization. "All right, ladies and gents…and Raoul…you asked for it," the blue one said, and Carlotta was nailed in the face with a giant glob of bright orange paint.

"Ahhh! My 'at, look it eet! Eet is RUNED!"

"Hey," the orange one said in a flat voice. "Runes are for wizards, Carlotta." Piangi was then caught unawares by a streak of red paint that appeared on his chest.

"MWHAHAHAH!" the blue one cried.

Erik, Red Death, looked utterly horrified. He was hissing something unintelligible at them and they just sneered, pointing their contraptions at _him_. "PAINT BALL ACTION!" the orange one cried, shooting Erik's feathery hat off.

He roared their names, but no one really caught what he said because they were running from the random shots that were being taken at innocent spectators. Christine was shot square in the forehead and some got stuck in Raoul's hair. Everyone was covered in colors. It was horrifying, but the perpetrators were having a hell of a time, shooting random people and sometimes Erik, until he disappeared.

They slid down the banister in synch and began shooting into the crowd blindly. Nadir Kahn, who was lurking, got his little Persian hat knocked off four times. Laughing the whole way, the girls got lost in the school of people trying to either run away or find them and fight back. When some such people found them to be in the middle of the crowd and tried to tackle them, they simply vanished.

Two very tired maids were spotted the next morning. They were the only two in the building without some kind of colorful stain on their clothes.


	16. The Dangers of Uncoastered Tang

**Okay, I am genuinely sorry that I've taken this long. Please, can you somehow forgive me? What if I gave you an Erik Cake? Okay, so in the last month, NaNoWriMo **_**ate my soul**_** and so did Repo! The Genetic Opera. Do you know how insanely awesome Repo! is? It just is awesome; it's this rock opera and—well, you can find out for yourself…**

**You can expect less swearing, too **** Awww, I know it's like a tradition, but I'm actually trying to impress someone here, not make them feel like I'm a crazed crackho. *points at Ben* Kill him, it's all **_**his**_** fault.**

**Izzi's POV**

"Do dada doo, do do dada doo, do do dada doo, do, do do…_on my own, pretending he's beside_—"

"Your MOM!" Lizzy interjected.

"Lizzy! Okay, sure, your mom, yes," I replied, nodding and sitting down on my bed. "Gee willikers, Lizzy, what are we gonna do today?"

"Well, it's nearly Christmas," she replied, looking out the window at the snow.

"Yeah, and Yule's already over, and I don't _celebrate_ Chanukah, nor Kwanza…" I looked out the window as well and was hit with a sudden idea. "Hey! This means I don't have to go to church! No Joe to boss me around!" I cheered.

"Awesome!" Lizzy cheered half-heartedly.

My hands fell to my sides. "Well, what's wrong? Why aren't you happy? It's almost X-Mas, kind of like X-Men, only without Hugh Jackman…_sometimes_."

"Well…so you know how you like Erik? Like, _really_ like him?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah…" I said slowly, my eyes widening. "What?! You like him too? GEE WILI—"

"No! …I think I like…"

"Oh, crap, you don't like _Javert_, do you?"

"No! No, he's not even here! Gods." She rolled her eyes at my foolishness.

"Okay…Hugh Jackman?" I asked hopefully.

"No, Izzi," Lizzy said finally, and I realized that in a movie sad epiphany music would be going in the background, if that makes any sense. "I like Raoul," she grumbled.

"Whoa, whoa, woahhhhh!" I said, holding my hands in front of me. "Huh?"

"I like Raoul!" she said louder, standing up.

"You _do_?" asked a horrified voice at the end of the room.

"Oh, hi, Erik," I said, waving.

"Hullo," Erik replied angrily, and then looked at Lizzy. "I can't believe you girls. You two seemed so indifferent—especially Lizzy, who seemed to just want to go _home_, but _now_…" He put a hand to his head. "I don't even know what's what anymore!"

"You never did," I replied with a smile.

"Oh, stop acting like my frickin' _wife_," Erik growled, using a bit of the slang that had rubbed off on him.

"Oh, to be your wife," I said under my breath, but Lizzy interjected before he could hear.

"I do want to go home, but there is _nothing_ wrong with liking Raoul!" Lizzy said sternly.

"Nothing wrong?! Nothing _wrong_?! Of course there's something wrong with it! He's a _joke_!" Erik cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Lizzy mumbled incoherently and sat on her bed. I knew she didn't take Erik seriously, and I didn't exactly agree with him, because Raoul's my homeboy, but still…it was _Erik._

"You girls make me want to kick a baby," Erik grumbled, going away.

"Well, look what you've done now! He's all gone—buh bye, tra-la!" I snapped at her.

"Tra-la? Like, from _The Labyrinth_?" Lizzy asked.

"No! Just _tra…la!_" I cried, sitting on my bed again. "Holy pepperstake, Lizzy." I stuck out my tongue.

"Why aren't you swearing?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Usually you swear a ton in this phic," she said, shrugging.

"Well, it's kind of getting ridiculous. I'll put in some swears here and there, of course, but…it _was_ getting a bit out of hand." I looked at the screen and waved. "Sorry, guys. I still love you."

"Um, who are you talking to?" Lizzy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your mother. Now, what are we gonna do today?" I asked.

"Hmm…" We though for quite some time. "Christmas party?"

"_Exactly!_" I cried, jumping up. "_Exactly!_"

Lizzy looked up at me. "Well, where are we gonna throw it? We'd get in trouble if it was in the opera house, and we have no money…"

I thought a moment, and then said, "The Lakey House, of course!"

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

"_J-yust hear those sleigh bells ringilin', tingtingatinggalin' too! Commun! It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!_" I cried and she hauled a giant fir tree into Erik's lair. It had barely fit in the Phlume, but I am the Princess of Tetris, so I fit it—I FIT IT GOOD!

"_Outside the snow is fallin' and friends are callin', "yoo-hoo!" commun, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!_" Lizzy finished. She clutching one of the pipes of Erik's organ, decorating it with garland and other various colorful things.

"Yay!" I cried, finally getting the tree to stand up. "Now we decorate!"

"Wait, we missed one thing," Lizzy said.

"Oh, right!" I nodded, and got a large log out of the Phlume as well. "Yule Log!" We laughed and started to decorate the tree.

"Okay, so we're gonna need drinks and food and crap and lots of tables and a _record player!_" Lizzy said excitedly, smashing a bulb on the floor for fun.

"News flash, Lizz—this is the nineteenth century. Where are we gonna get a record player?" I asked.

"Does it honestly matter?!" Lizzy cried, throwing her arms arm. "Does it?! This is a _phanfic_! Logic has no power over us!"

"Yeah!" I agreed loudly. "I'll find one later. Can't help but wonder where Erik is." I raised my eyebrows and looked over at her. "Can't help wondering where _Raoul_ is," I said, wiggling my eyebrows and covering my mouth with one hand.

"Oh, shut up," Lizzy mumbled, going back over to Erik's organ and starting to shine one of the pipes. "I'm going to have to repossess Erik's organ," she said under her breath, and I cracked up, breaking several bulbs.

"Legal assassin you are, Lizzy, yes," I called over to her, starting to take a bunch of Santa hats out of a bag. Erik wouldn't be here for awhile—he was out shopping—so we had a bit of time left to get everything ready.

"Okay, Lizzy, you go find a record player and I'll go get people," I ordered finally, standing up and going over to the Phlume.

"What time do we meet back at the Phlume?" she asked, getting into the seat next to me.

"Thirty minutes, tops. It'll probably take you awhile to find one of those old fashioned record things," I said, nodding knowingly and starting the Phlume.

Lizzy nodded in agreement and cried, "Tally-ho!" as we started off.

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

Finding guests was an interesting experience. Everyone seemed pretty damn happy about going to a Christmas party. I explained that it was in The Phantom of the Opera's lair, and most just nodded and told me they'd be there. We definitely altered _something_; people bursting into song randomly, being okay with randomly having Christmas parties underground, etc. I supposed that when we came, we bought all our knowledge of the future and the various jumbled things that happened in each version. So thank gods I've never read _The Phantom Takes Manhattan_, or whatever it's called.

I got a good crowd of around maybe sixty people, which was pretty good for an opera house that wasn't busy at the moment. I actually pulled random people from the street, too, so maybe it didn't count. Ah, well.

"This way, please, single-file, thank you!" I knew I could count on Erik to be spying in Christine's dressing room and to not be paying attention to what I was doing…though I wouldn't exactly mind if he were watching me nonstop instead of her.

The guests packed into Erik's lair for the enormous party. I looked over and saw Lizzy ushering nine at a time into the Phlume, bringing it back up each time and going down again. She handed me a giant horn thing attached to a box and I figured she'd zapped an old-timey record player to the past, coming back with this.

I was the last one to go down, and when I got there, it was a madhouse, but exciting. There were people climbing on Erik's furniture and smashing lamps and what have you. There was a crowd of people waiting for some music, so I tossed the bulky record player to Lizzy, who positioned it on a safe table.

"What am I supposed to play?" Lizzy mouthed over to me.

"I don't know," I mouthed back, shrugging dramatically.

She whipped out a record and looked down at it. I didn't know what it was, but I was about to find out. Suddenly, Black Sabbath filled the room and people start bouncing around, hyped by the new music. I wondered where Lizzy got _that_.

I went over to her, cup of Tang in hand, and asked her. "I stole it from your parents at the last minute. I figured I'd need it."

"Well, that was a lucky guess," I said, raising my eyebrows and taking a sip of my Tang. I glanced at Andre and Firmin hanging on a chandelier. "Hey, get down from there! I'll be slaughtered if you take down his ceiling!"

"_You'll be slaughtered anyway!_" growled an echoing voice that seemed to be coming from all directions. Everyone gasped and the music stopped. "_Get out of my house!"_

As people started to file out in a panic, trampling one another and such, I saw Erik come out from the bathroom. "_Where did you think I was?!_" he screamed at us. "_What the hell?!_"

"Well, sorry, but where were we _supposed_ to throw it?" Lizzy asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"_Not here!_" he screamed, waving his arms around like some kind of crazed…thing.

"Fine, we'll get out, Erikkins," I said smarmily, and dramatically set my drink on a table…_without putting a coaster under it!_

Erik gasped, covering his mouth, eying the un-coastered Tang. "_Izzi!_" he hissed. "I would have _never_ thought _this_ of you!" His eyes were filling with tears, watching the glass. I knew he had strong feelings about putting coasters under glasses.

Suddenly, his eyes were filled with fire, and he was twice our size, advancing. "_So be it! Now, let it be war UPON YOU BOTH!_" He chased us out of the lair and we narrowly escaped by Phlume. Who knew The Phantom of the Opera cared so much about his dark wood finish?

**I urge you to check out Ben's La Traviata fic! His penname is TermiteSquidSnowLeopard, and the fic is highly based off of this one. :)**

**This question of the week is gonna be extra speeshul cuz I ignored you for so long: If you had to get an organ Repo'd (repossessed), which one would you choose?  
**


	17. Come to the Opera With me!

**I'm baaaaaack O.O! How is everyone? Holy hell, I haven't post in, like, six months! WTF?! I'm hoping to finish this really soon, and you guys'll be the first ones to hear about it!**

**Remember that Repo thing I was talking about earlier? It totally got ripped **_**off**_**! Repo Men, just came out in theaters, bad reviews? Total rip of Repo! the Genetic Opera. Bah, some people.**

**Erik's POV**

Someone was singing Il Dolce Suono, and I remember thinking: _I could give them lessons. They're untrained_.

The woman looked at me from the crowd, all gathered into one, and I wanted to be there with her. She was so beautiful…her voice so new and unsure. She was calling me from somewhere over an abyss, the One I'd been hearing all my life.

I was passing through a crowd, seeing people I'd never see again, but still wanted to hide my face. I could feel her behind me, watching my every move. "Fire," she murmured, slicing through the crowd and sliding in front of me. The intensity of her ice-blue eyes pierced me to the core. "Erik…"

"Is that you?" I mouthed, though no voice came. The street turned into a grid, stretching out, and I looked away for a moment, seeing an architectural sketch of the Paris Opera stretching out in front of me.

"Fire," she echoed in a pleasant voice, making it almost a question. I asked her what she meant, though I said nothing. "Fire…Fire…_fire…_" Her mouth opened into a black hole, and she shrieked. I could feel her vocal chords being ripped up as if they were my own, and I felt like crying out and telling her to stop hurting herself.

"Fire!" she screamed. "_Fire! __**Fire, goddammit, FIRE!**_"

Alarmingly icy, bad-smelling water was splashed all over me, and I woke up. "_Wake up, you stupid ghost!_"

"Wha—fire, fire, where?!" I sputtered, stumbling out of my coffin, still in my PJs.

Izzi was standing before me with an empty bucket. She looked completely calm. "Nowhere, I was trying to wake you up." Before I could yell at her, she added, "It's important. About the managers." She looked genuinely worried, her eyes actually filling with tears. I was a bit concerned.

"What's happened?" I asked, touching her shoulder. The poor child was obviously on the brink of losing it.

"Richard and Moncharmin," she sobbed, her head in her hands. "They're here! I don't know how they got here, but they're here!"

O_O _What?_ "Who? Who are they?" I asked, taking my hand off of her.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, of course…You have the musical managers…" Izzi sniffed, shaking her head. "Moncharmin and Richard are the real managers of the Opera."

"Real? Andre and Firmin…"

"Replaced Lefèvre? Wrong! _Moncharmin and Richard_ replaced _Debienne and Poligny_! HA! You don't even know about yourself!" she cried, throwing her arms in the air. "They escaped my brain somehow." She knocked on her skull.

I sighed, not completely understanding, but accepting the fact that she wanted me to go with her. "Where to?"

"The managers' office. You need to see this."

I sent Izzi to the boat while I quickly made myself decent. While in my room, I noticed something wrong with the arrangement of the furniture…it was different in an inexplicable way…

I joined the girl on the Phlume, immediately demanding more of an explanation. "Isabella—"

"Izzi."

"…Izzi…" The nickname left a strange taste in my mouth. "It would help immensely if you further explained what the hell in going on…"

"I would," she replied, "but I don't completely know myself yet." A shadow seemed to come over us, and a strange cold.

"What _is_ that?" I asked, looking not scared, but perturbed.

"I wish I knew."

Soon, we reached the edge of the labyrinth, and I was forced to help Izzi through it. She was in such disarray that I was beginning to get worried. At one point she almost lost her balance. As we neared the main hall, I heard the sound of a loud conversation, perhaps a debate.

"Up, to the managers' office. Please, Erik, hurry…" Izzi begged, looking around frantically.

I nodded and took a passage that led behind the wall of the office. "That's them." She was pointing to a couple of middle-aged men with graying hair, slightly outdated business suits, and scowls.

"I tell you, _we_ run this opera house!" one was saying.

"But you don't! We have the papers to prove our ownership!" Andre retaliated helplessly.

"Look, I think I know what Operas I own and which I do not!" the other man cut in. Izzi quickly told me which was Richard and which was Moncharmin.

"Obviously, you don't, messieurs."

"Yes, obviously, you don't," Firmin agreed.

Moncharmin banged a fist on the desk. "I demand we see your papers!"

"Very well, then!" Andre went to a cabinet and opened it, flipping through a stack of papers until he found a few. "Here you are. The deed."

Moncharmin and Richard looked it over. "Impossible! Yesterday we owned this building!" Richard cried in disbelief.

"If you're not planning on giving up, messieurs, then we will strike up a deal with you: tell us one thing about this opera house that only its managers would know, and we'll provide you with anything you need during your stay with us—_besides_ the opera itself! You see the papers." Andre and Firmin exchanged a nod.

"Fine, then, fine!" A pause. "Richard?"

A sigh. "The Opera Ghost, of course. He's been stealing our money for much too long."

I scoffed. I did not _steal_!

Andre and Firmin both paused and exchanged a long, worried look. That was something that they tried not to make public. The money issue was something they made sure _no one_ knew about. "So you have guessed?"

"We _know_," Moncharmin said with a firm nod. "We know because we run this opera!"

"_Enough…"_

The four of them paused, and even Izzi stiffened at my side. That voice was not mine!

"Perhaps we should talk this over," Andre suggested quietly.

"I believe you're right," Richard agreed.

"Come with us." The four men exited the room and Izzi and I were left in silence. It wasn't just silence, though, it was an unnatural silence. That kind of silence that _my_ presence created.

"Come on," Izzi said under her breath, taking hold of my hand and pulling me out of that passageway.

"Where to?" I asked curiously, quite intrigued by this new mystery.

"The main hall. I think that's where they were headed."

Crossing over to the main hall, we heard a crash that sounded too much like falling candelabras. "Oh, Christ, what was…"

Izzi shook her head and put a hand over my mouth, gesturing for me to be quiet.

"What do you mean?!" we heard being cried with a heavy accent. "_I_ am the P—"

"Fool!" The person was cut off by another heavily accented voice. "You are no closer than a loaf of bread!"

"Come on," Izzi whispered, pulling me out of the passage and out of sight, behind a pillar. What we saw whilst peeking out from behind it was astounding.

_Two_ Darogas. One was dressed in typical opera garb, while the other wore exuberant tapestries and whatnot. I was used to seeing the exuberant one, but this other one was new to me…They both wore the little red hats and both had impressive facial hair.

As of now, they were circling each other, arguing about who was who. "I tell you, I am Nadir Kahn!" the one I was used to shouted.

"Who in the name of Allah is Nadir Kahn?!" the other snapped back.

"I! The Persian!"

"I am the Persian, you silly man!" The "Persian" crossed his arms, as did Nadir.

"If you were the Persian, you'd know your own name!"

"That is _not_ my name!"

Izzi giggled a bit. "Silly Susan Kay…"

They heard her and went silent, looking over at us. Unfortunately, Izzi is nowhere near tall enough for me to disappear behind, though I tried…

"Erik! Erik, tell us which one of us is the _real_ Daroga!"

"Eh…that one." I pointed to a woman wearing a flashy feather hat, who was standing behind the pair.

Nadir and the Persian looked behind themselves. "Madame Giry?" the Persian asked with a confused expression. "She's not me…"

"Madame G—What?!" I was now very confused.

Izzi knocked on her skull again. "They're all coming from my brain!" she cried in agony.

"Izzi! Izzi!" Both Izzi and I looked toward the doors. One of them opened and Lizzy ran through it, trying to push it closed quickly. "Izzi! Help me!"

She ran to help Lizzy close the door. "What's happening?"

"They're following me! There are about three other Christines out there!" she squeaked back as they finally got the door shut. "And vast amounts of supporting characters!"

"Oh god…" Izzi bit her lip and looked for a way to lock the doors.

"I have the key," I announced, sliding it across the floor to them. Lizzy took it and stuck it in the keyhole, but she was too late. There was furious banging on the door.

"Izzi, _why_ did you have to watch every Phantom Reviewer video ever made?" Lizzy whined.

"I'm sorry!" she whined back, trying to keep the doors shut. They were being forced, though, with loud booms.

And from behind my pillar I witnessed the doors flying open, sending the girls flying, and a large group of arguing men and women. Some of them looked familiar, but others I just did _not_ know.

From behind me, there came a voice: "_This is ridiculous_," I heard before I was pulled backward by the collar.

I was roughly turned around and faced with something impossible.

**Question of the entry: Who would you like to see invade? 8}**


	18. Come to the Opera With Me Part 2: Erik

**If this chapter isn't up within the next three days, I'm probably dead.**

**And look, it is!**

Lizzy's POV

"Erik! Erik! No, where's Erik?" Izzi cried beside me. "He was back there!"

"Would you calm down? He probably just split because of…this." I gestured to the crowd which was now storming the opera house like a clan of Vikings, running up and down the stairs and attacking each other.

"Then we have to go find him," she replied firmly, then paused. "Lizzy…where do you think he went…?"

"His lair, most likely."

"I don't know, wouldn't he want to survey the scene? He's much too curious a person not to want answers." I sighed with a nod. She knew more about Erik than I did, so I may as well take her word for it.

"Come on, let's search backstage." She dragged me through the mass of people.

The backstage area was deserted, people having scampered out to defend the Opera against the siege. "We are _so_ getting burned as witches," I said to Izzi with a slight smile.

"At least we'll go out with a bang!"

We began to look into dressing rooms and call out to the rafters. "Erik! Erik! Helllooooo? ERIK!" Izzi screamed.

"_Yes, I am right here..._" We both paused. Why was he using his Lurker Voice on us? We knew he was there…

"Erik, where the hell were you?" I demanded.

"_I know not what you mean…are you the ones called Izzi and Lizzy_…?"

Izzi and I exchanged a glance. "Eh?" she muttered in confusion.

"_I cannot utter it without the others...I understand you know about my catacombs_."

"Uh…yeah…?"

"_Then you are the ones. Come with me…_" Something was lit in the shadows, high above our heads.

"What--?" I began to ask, but Izzi cut me off.

"It's Erik. The Erik…" she whispered, and took my hand, dragging me in his direction.

The lights turned into a black figure that we followed closely through a trap door and through the narrow passages of the labyrinth. "One question I will ask before we reach the others…how do you know my name?" the figure asked.

"We just…know," Izzi squeaked in awe, staring at him. I had to start dragging her.

"My boat…it looks different," we heard the figure mutter before helping us into the Phlume. "And where is Cesar…?"

"Never mind that," I told him, looking ahead of us at the rushing water of the flume ride.

"Why are there tracks in this water…" he muttered as well. When the Phlume started going, he stopped asking questions, clutching the safety bar. "This. Is. _Fascinating.._."

Izzi chuckled, looking very happy to be sitting next to him, trying to see his mask through the shadows. It was black, though, so that'd be hard.

"So, why are we going to the lair?" I demanded from in front of them.

"You shall see."

When we finally reached the house, Izzi was nearly jumping out of her seat. She managed to keep herself calm and from not raping Leroux-Erik.

He calmly opened the door for us and we stepped into the drawing room, or parlor as it is. Izzi stumbled and fell against me, staring in shock around the room. There, sitting, pacing, and chatting with one another…were many Eriks.

Sitting at the piano forte at the far side of the room were two Eriks. One had short red hair and a full-face mask; we knew him as Charles Dance. The other was dark-haired with a half mask covering his forehead as well; that was definitely Webber-Erik. Two other Eriks sat on the couch in the drawing room. The one closest to the door had a mask that barely covered anything—definitely Gerik. The one sitting next to him had his arms crossed and was looking at Gerik with utter disgust—they were nearly opposites—that one _had_ to be Lon-Erik.

Passed out on the floor was the frickin' _Dario Argento_ Phantom (no mask, dearies—no deformity, ugh), and next to him, in a chair (and staring at him) was the 1987 animated Erik. In a chair near Animerik was Englund-Erik, also known as the Freddy Kruger guy. Standing around were other random Eriks including versions such as Claude Rains and Herbert Lom. Standing in a corner was our Erik, looking very, very confused.

"Ah, there they are!" cried Charles Dance jubilantly. "I love everything."

Webber-Erik shook his head slowly at Dance's ridiculousness.

"Izzi, can you please explain to me what the fuck is going on?" our Erik asked slowly.

Izzi was too busy looking around to answer. "You there," Leroux-Erik said, gesturing to Lon-Erik. "Where'd that other one run off to?"

"He went to find…" Lon paused, "…shiny things."

A collective 'oooh~' went through the group of masked (not including Argento-Erik) men.

"Any idea when he'll be back?" Leroux-Erik asked curiously. He was treating this Fourth-Wall-breaking as completely normal.

"Oh…who knows with him," Lon said. After a pause, "Little Marti Stu that he is…" It seemed Lon and Leroux were getting along swimmingly.

"Well! I think that's all fine and dandy!" Charles Dance exclaimed, standing up. Animerik let out a little maniacal chuckle as Dance walked over and put both arms around Izzi and I's shoulders. "Well, girls, we know you know all of us."

"Th-that's right," Izzi said, close to fainting.

Englund gave a small grin, and we could almost hear the other Erik's seethe with envy. His mask made of skin was a nice touch that meant he could go out and about…and buy hookers. I recognized him immediately and I said, "You love the music?"

He finished my sentence: "I _am_ the music!"

Gerik sighed and looked over at Webber-Erik, who sneered back. No one really seemed to like Gerik…I didn't blame them.

"Let's get straight to the point," Animerik said coolly, in a _really_ awesome voice, despite his obvious low-budget animation. He stood and grabbed our Erik from the corner, pushing him forward. "We want to get back into our own stories."

Leroux-Erik looked at Izzi and me and nodded slowly. Webber-Erik stood, smoothing out his coattails. "It's feels queer," he said, "to not have people burst into song constantly."

"Yeah!" Gerik agreed in a heavy Scottish accent. "Was' with 'at?!"

"That accent…" Lon muttered, "…could cut through steel. And I do not mean it as a compliment."

Gerik gave a hearty laugh and swung his cape over his shoulder all sexily. Izzi and I looked on, unimpressed.

Our Erik finally spoke up. "Okay, so…I don't understand, really, what this is. They've introduced themselves as mostly something, dash, Erik. _I'm_ Erik."

"We're all Erik," Charles Dance said cheerily.

"Then what's my name?" our Erik mumbled, crossing his arms.

"Why, you're Crack!Erik, of course." Izzi and I looked around at the door leading to the dining room. Standing there was an olive-skinned man with beautiful golden eyes, wavy dark hair, and a very angular white mask. His deep red and black cape fell gracefully around his twig of a body. There was a collective groan from the Eriks.

"Hello…_Kay-Erik_," Leroux said in a menacing voice form behind us.

Kerik's eyes narrowed. "Hello…_Leroux_."

"Marti Stu," Lon hissed under his breath.

Kerik crossed his arms and strolled in. "Yeah, well, a small glass jar can't contain me, so _suck it_."

Izzi and I burst out laughing, of course, and that's when he noticed us. "Ah…here they are." He kissed our hands and every Erik seemed to be on edge. Well, except for Argento, who was probably dreaming about his rats.

Animerik finally came forward when Kerik was taking a bit too long to say hello. He smacked him upside the head with a jerky, low-budget movement. "Ow! I kill you!" Kerik snapped, but Leroux cut in.

"Children!" he scoffed, crossing his arms and looking at them with a fierce glare. They glared back with the same exact expression.

"This is awesome," Izzi whispered to me.

Englund stood and walked to the piano forte, standing by Webber. "This is ridiculous. All I want to know it how to get home and—"

"_Your female scent!_" Argento moaned, rolling over and sitting up. Leroux-Erik looked to be on the verge of tears when seeing what he'd been interpreted as by Dario.

Izzi huddled against Charles Dance, staring at the Ratsturbator with wide eyes. "That man scares children," Webber-Erik muttered.

"Don't we all?" Englund chuckled.

Leroux crossed his arms and watched the man with the outrageous hair and no deformity. He got up and stumbled over to the piano forte, making the two Eriks there back up a bit.

Our Erik, Crack!Erik as he was described, shook his head in utter disbelief. "I am in utter disbelief…"

Gerik muttered something in Scottish Accent, which is more of a language than an accent. Everyone glanced at him for a moment and then turned back to us.

"Please, tell us how to get home," Charles begged, green eyes hopeful.

"But we don't know," I confessed honestly. Izzi bit her lip and nodded.

"I have a living heir," Kerik put in, completely random, just to annoy Leroux and the others.

"But if you don't know…" Englund muttered, one hand at his chin, "…and none of us know…then that means we can't get home."

Lon's hand flew to his throat, eyes wide. "And if we can't get home…"

"We're stuck here…" finished Webber in a distant voice.

"And if we're stuck here, that means everyone else if stuck here," Charles muttered, solemn for once.

"And if everyone else if stuck here…the Fourth Wall will remain open for too long…" Animerik said with a deep frown, removing his gay mask and revealing his very Leroux-like animation.

"And if that happens..." Gerik murmured, though it only came out as a jumble.

"If that happens," Leroux-Erik said solemnly, "then it will be open season on every Phantom of the Opera work."

"Are you saying the fate of the Phantom Universe rests on our shoulders?" Izzi asked, hands on her hips.

"Yes."

A pause. "That is so Mary Sue." Izzi spoke the truth.

"Well, you've gotta have a climax _somewhere_," Charles said with a shrug.

"That's true…" I shrugged. "But could it be a less Mary Sue-ish climax? I feel like My Immortal here…"

"Agreed." Izzi nodded.

Leroux-Erik sighed behind us. "This isn't going well."

Crack!Erik stepped forward again. "It's not Mary Sue."

Everyone looked at him. "What?" Izzi asked flatly.

"You two are not Mary Sue. Izzi, you suck at nearly everything besides your mediocre artistic talents. You're not very pretty, you're rude, you're vulgar, and you're a slob." He turned to me. "Lizzy, you're not Mary Sue either. You're not stunning, nor exotic, you have a stutter, and you're awkward!"

"Hey, thanks for the insults," Izzi snapped. "What me to pay you?"

Erik ignored her. "So if you want all of these random men out of my house and in their own lairs, I suggest you let yourselves be the heroines for just a moment! Figure out a way to get them back!"

"What do we get?" I asked.

He frowned. "Um…"

Izzi sighed, loud and long. "Okay. We'll do it." She looked around at the room full of Eriks and, referring to all of them (though probably excluding Gerik and Argento), "But only for you…_Erik."_


	19. A Note From my Future Self

**A/N: Hey, guys. It's been... years. Isn't that weird to think? I'd like to apologize for never putting in the time to finish this fic. I was thirteen when I started it. I'm sixteen now. So much has happened in my life, and it's such a great feeling to look back on what a happy, happy child I was. Stupid. Random. Pointless. But happy. I'm suffering from crippling depression, and have been, and that is why I don't update anymore. I'm going to try and finish this, because I think I should. I owe it to my thirteen year old self, I think. So hang in there, and thanks for tolerating my... well... ya know XD**

**I LOVE YOU ALL! I seriously do. Please check me out on fictionpress as well, under the same username. I have a detective story I'm working on there that you might enjoy. Also, hit up my Avengers and Repo! fics, pretty please? Thanks so much.**

**-Izzi**

**(P.S. For all my lovely reviewers who say things such as "Erik is a little OOC" and "How come Erik swears and knows slang?" ...don't try to apply sense to this madness XD)**


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